Harry Potter and the Return of the Lost
by PearlQ19
Summary: Revised & stylistically improved! Set between the fifth and sixth year at Hogwarts. Harry is grieving over Sirius's death, but then Remus and Hermione remember an old case, where the person who died could be returned. New hope rises... PLEASE RR
1. True Friends

HARRY POTTER AND THE RETURN OF THE LOST 

xxxxx

_Author's note: This is about the return of Sirius. I wrote it to console myself, as I was grieving very hard over Sirius's death. It is set between the books five and six; it starts two weeks after the ending of book five and won't include the sixth year at Hogwarts. Mind you, it's very sentimental and involves a lot of emotion. Buckets of tears, too. If you're looking for a lot of action, Quidditch or whatever, you might be disappointed with it. Please give me some feedback, no matter if you liked the story or not. Oh, and if you spot any grammar or vocabulary mistakes, please tell me! Mind you, I'm not a native speaker of English._ _If you have already read "The Brightest Star in the Sky", please remember that this does not exactly continue it. "The Brightest Star" is set a few days before the beginning of this, but I wrote it almost a year after I had already finished this one._

_Summary:_

_Harry is grieving very hard over Sirius's death, not letting anybody near him. Remus finally manages to tear down the wall Harry has built around him, and Harry is reunited with his friends. When Hermione notices an odd phenomenon with everybody's eyes, Remus remembers a case of a wizard from the beginning of the century: Saturnus McGraw died in an accident with a Chimera, but a few weeks later he was brought back to life by his adopted son. Remus now thinks that there are so many parallels between the deaths of Sirius and Saturnus that maybe Sirius can be brought back as well..._

_**xxxxx**_

_**Chapter One – True Friends**_

"Are you alright, Harry?"

"Yes, Remus."

This was the standard dialogue through the door of Harry's room. Harry would not allow anyone to come near him. He had reluctantly agreed on Remus, Moody or Tonks stepping by every other day to check if the Dursleys were treating him good (or at least not treating him too cruel), but he would only speak to them through his door.

Ever since his return to number four, Privet Drive, two weeks ago, he hadn't left his room on another purpose than going to the bathroom. He wasn't too careful with that, either. His hair and body were well overdue for a shower, his clothes really needed to be washed, and his teeth could do with a cleaning, too. He hardly remembered feeding Hedwig each morning, and that was all he did with her - no stroking, no letters to be delivered. His friends kept sending him notes, but Harry did not feel like answering them, although he knew it wasn't fair. It wasn't their fault...

The pain had struck him like a cannonball two days after his arrival at the Dursleys'. He had been OK when he'd said goodbye to his friends at King's Cross Station, he had even looked forward to seeing them again in a few weeks' time, and he had felt relieved at Moody's proposal to look after him more closely. The Dursleys were not as cruel to him as usual, either, which basically meant they left him alone. Petunia would slide his food through the catflap in his door three times a day without further comments, but Harry always returned it half-eaten, if he ate at all.

The worst thing was that he could not cry. He had lost his godfather, the man he had grown to love dearly, the closest thing to a father he had ever known, the one he could trust over all - lost him under dramatic and suspicious circumstances without having been able to say goodbye, and he could not shed a single tear. Harry relived the scene each night in horrible nightmares, where he was back at the Ministry of Magic, struggling to fight his worst enemies, watching Sirius fall through that veil and vanish without a trace, unable to do anything about it. What was worse, he sometimes dreamed of Sirius's voice coming from behind the veil, calling his name, but when Harry wanted to rush over to save him, his feet would not move until he heard Remus say, "It's too late, Harry. He's gone."

From those dreams he sometimes woke with a start, his arms outstretched, his scar burning, his eyes so dry they hurt, and at a terrible loss for breath. The lump in his throat, the feeling that his insides were made of lead and the hammering headache he did no longer even so much as think about, as they were always there. He'd grown accustomed to that. Pain and sadness filled his days, together with an emptiness unlike anything he had known before. Harry felt as if he was constantly surrounded by at least a dozen Dementors who sucked his happy memories out of him. The feeling of never being happy again was now very familiar. He could just as well be dead - in fact, that wouldn't be a bad thing, as he would then maybe see Sirius again. But he still was here, a desperate young wizard going on sixteen, who had just for a second time lost a father.

And to think it was actually his fault... If he just had done what Snape had told him... if he had continued Occlumency, as it had also been Sirius's wish... if he hadn't been so oblivious...

Harry's insides squirmed in silent agony. He had lain on his back for six hours now, staring at the ceiling, unable to move, which was how he'd spent most of the past twelve days. His breakfast stood untouched where Petunia had left it. Harry couldn't even look at it, because it made him feel sick. He was very pale and thin, his unwashed and uncombed hair hung greasily from the back of his head, and tiny drops of perspiration were constantly running down his forehead and cheeks. If only he could cry, he thought dully, perhaps he'd feel better then. But his eyes remained as dry and sore as they had for the last three weeks.

A knock on the door startled him.

"I'm OK," he said flatly. "Leave me alone."

"Harry, please, won't you let me in?" said Remus's voice calmly. "You've been staying in here for two weeks. Don't you think it's time you started to take some interest in what's going on around you?"

"What for?" murmured Harry, more to himself. "The world holds nothing for me now."

"Please, Harry." Remus's calm voice did not change. "You should talk to someone. You're ignoring your friends, who are worried about you; do you think that's fair? You can't go on forever like this, you know..."

"Can't I?" shouted Harry, suddenly angry. "Well, you're wrong! I can!"

Remus spoke again after another pause. "You should be grateful to have these friends, Harry. There is nothing more important in the world than friends, and you are blessed with true ones. They're seldom to be found. Don't give them up while they're still here, waiting for you."

Harry was just about to shout that he wanted to be left alone, when it suddenly struck him what was going on in Remus's head when he had said this. He also realized that Remus's voice had been an inch from cracking when he had said the last words. He felt ashamed. His own pain was horrible, but it wasn't an excuse to hurt Remus Lupin, who had now lost his last remaining true friend after having lost two others before, one of them being Harry's father James. He tried to imagine what it would feel like to lose Ron after having already lost Hermione, Ginny and Neville, but he couldn't. Still this must be what Remus felt right now - Harry, on the other hand, although having suffered a terrible loss, still had all his friends, caring for him, worrying about him...

Harry stood up slowly and walked to the door. His knees were shaking, as he hadn't used his legs for now almost twenty-four hours. He stretched out his hand, turned the key and opened the door.

Remus seemed to have aged twenty years. His hair had gone almost completely gray, there were large shadows under his eyes, and his eyes, once a warm dark blue, had lost their usual look - though still kind and warm, the smile had faded from them. There lay a sadness in them which was almost touchable, and the color seemed to have altered, as if bleached, to a lighter, emptier blue. Harry wondered how that could be.

"I'm sorry, Remus," he said weakly.

"I don't blame you," said Remus mildly. "If there is anyone in the world who has at least an idea of how you feel, Harry, it's probably me. I knew him best, you know... and I have already suffered another loss like this. It's hell you're going through, I know it, and I tell you I've been praying for this not to have happened."

Harry felt very heavy.

"Come in, Remus," he said and stepped aside to let Remus pass. Then he closed the door and went back to his bed. Remus sat down on the chair in front of Harry's desk.

"I had completely forgotten that you've lost him, too," said Harry after a few moments of silence. It was the first complete sentence he had uttered in two weeks, and it felt rather odd. He cleared his throat.

Remus watched him, saying nothing, but there was a touch of haze showing in his oddly bleached eyes.

"I don't know what's come over me," said Harry. He didn't want to say more, but all the unspoken words now stirred in him, rising to the surface and starting to stream out of his mouth. He sat up straight.

"I feel as if I'm surrounded by Dementors," he told Remus. "A feeling that I can never be happy again. Every time I try to think of Ron or Hermione or any other happy memory, he is on my mind. I see him fall, Remus, over and over again, and it makes me forget everything else. All I can think of is that he's never coming back... no owl will ever bring to me one of his short letters, and I won't ever again see him in the fireplace of the common room... he'll never again tell me I'm like... like..."

"Like James," said Remus softly.

"He won't be sitting in the kitchen in that horrible house of this, shouting at Kreacher, eagerly waiting for something he can do, and he won't change into the dog to go for walk or take me to the station..." Harry clenched his fists. "I'll never see him again... he won't know if I passed my OWLs, he won't see me grow up and become whatever it is I'll become, he won't celebrate with my friends and me when we leave school for good... oh God, Remus, I loved him so much and I never told him, and I COULDN'T EVEN SAY GOODBYE!"

Harry's voice cracked as the tears he had held back for three weeks mounted up inside him, suffocating him, rising into his eyes and finally, finally streaming down his face. He struggled for breath, crying harder and harder. He heard a clatter as Remus, rushing over to him, knocked over the chair he had been sitting on. He reached out a hand, blindly, and felt Remus bending over him. Harry clasped his arms around Remus's neck, still at a loss for breath because of the sobs in his throat. He heard Remus murmur something but couldn't make out the words. Images of Sirius were running through his head... the dog... the confrontation in the Shrieking Shack... his flight with Buckbeak... after the Triwizard Tournament... Christmas, when Sirius had been so happy to have company... the dream Voldemort had sent Harry to lure him into the Department of Mysteries... and then, again, that horrible moment when Sirius fell through the veil. There was a voice in Harry's ears that screamed, "No! No!", but only after a few seconds did he realize that it was his own voice, screaming his pain and panic out of him. Remus fell on his knees beside Harry and reached out for him, and in a gigantic outburst of tears, Harry collapsed in Remus's arms and knew no more.

**xxxxx**

How long Harry had been crying he did not know, but it must have been very long, judging from the front of Remus's shabby cloak, which was completely soaked through with tears. When Harry's sobs finally subsided, his throat felt sore and his face was hot and sticky. His heart was beating so fast that Harry feared it would burst through his chest at any moment. He could barely open his eyes, and when he did, he couldn't see clearly. He was still clasping Remus's shoulders, and Remus kept holding him until Harry looked up.

Remus gave him his glasses and Harry took them without a word. He wanted to say something, anything, but he couldn't think of a single, simple phrase. Feeling oddly ashamed and relieved at the same time, Harry sat up and tried a faint smile.

"Do you feel better now?" asked Remus after a pause.

"Dunno," mumbled Harry.

He hesitated to look at Remus. Though they had decided to continue on first-name terms, Harry still thought of him as _Professor Lupin_, his teacher at Hogwarts, and crying his eyes out in the arms of a teacher was not Harry's idea of an ideal situation. But a second later, this feeling was gone. Just like Sirius, Remus had been one of his father's best friends, and under different circumstances Harry would probably have known him for as long as he could remember, riding on his knees and calling him "Uncle Remus".

He took a deep breath and turned to Remus. "Yes, Remus, I do feel better now," he said. "A little, at least."

Remus smiled sadly. "Yes, I fear we cannot expect more," he said. A tear blinked in his eye, but he ignored it. "But, Harry, Sirius would have wanted us to carry on. Especially you. I'm sure he wouldn't want us to sit here all day and cry. Of course, we need time to cope with the grief, but we mustn't forget that there is a real devil on the loose out there, and we're the ones to find and fight and defeat him. Sirius wouldn't have wanted to die for nothing, you see," he added in a very low voice, and Harry knew that he was also trying to fight back tears. He pretended not to notice and got up instead.

"Very well then, I think I should take a shower," he said. His voice sounded hoarse from all the crying, but Remus looked up and smiled faintly.

"I hoped that you would say that first," he said. "Brush your teeth as well, will you? And then come down with me."

Harry wondered what there would be downstairs apart from Dudley's new wrestling prize or whatever, but he nodded and went in the bathroom. When he was standing under the shower, he wondered how he could have endured so long without speaking to anyone. He really felt better. The lump in his throat seemed to have become smaller.

When he was done with the shower, Harry dried himself with a towel and brushed his teeth. When he looked in the mirror, he was shocked. The face he was looking at seemed not to be his. Surely he couldn't have lost so much weight in just two weeks, could he? His face was very pale and thin, the skin like old ivory, large dark shadows under his eyes, which seemed to have withdrawn into their sockets, and... his eyes! Harry jumped and then got closer to the mirror. It did not change. The formerly bright green of his eyes had diminished to a lifeless grayish green that wasn't shining at all. It had more the color of a swamp or something, and the longer Harry looked into his own eyes, the more he felt that this could not be a coincidence. First Remus's eyes and now his own. What had happened?

Harry dressed in a rush and left the bathroom. Remus was waiting for him in front of his room.

"Well, let's go downstairs then, shall we?" he said.

"Yes..." said Harry, hesitating. "Listen, Remus, I still have a question..."

"You can ask it downstairs." Remus really seemed keen to take Harry into the living room.

Shrugging, Harry agreed, and the two of them went downstairs into the living room.

Harry gasped.

The Dursleys weren't there, but the room was full of at least twenty people. Harry looked around. He saw Mad-Eye Moody, Tonks, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Arthur and Molly Weasley, Mundungus Fletcher, Arabella Figg and Professor McGonagall. Behind them - Harry's heart leaped up into his throat and then continued thumping heavily there - Bill Weasley was standing, his head turned aside and down to talk to Ron, Hermione and Ginny, who were standing next to him. A few other witches and wizards were chatting in the corner next to the fireplace.

"What is going on here?" Harry asked Remus in a whisper.

"They've been here every day," answered Remus just as silently. "They all wanted to know how you were doing, and I had to send them home every time, because you refused to see anyone. So while you were having your shower, I summoned them. Though I must say," he added with an angry glance at the people unknown to Harry, "I thought I called only those who knew you personally and therefore should be the first to know how things are."

The other witches and wizards looked at Remus, who made a gesture at them.

"Don't take it personally, but I'd like you to get out of here," he said and smiled apologetically.

Grumbling, the others Disapparated.

"There he is," shrieked Tonks at this very moment, and all the others interrupted their talking.

Tonks rushed forward and took Harry's hand. "We are so glad you are back with the living, Harry," she said brightly. Apparently she hadn't noticed that her choice of words was not the best one, but Harry knew that she didn't mean to hurt him. She was obviously nearly out of her mind of joy over his return.

"Thanks, Tonks," Harry said and forced himself to a grin.

"Harry," snarled Moody as he clonked nearer. "Thought you might recover soon... tough boy you are. And one thing I wanted to tell you ever since... well, ever since: Your Stunning Spells were brilliant in there. You should re-consider being an Auror."

"Thanks, Mad-Eye," said Harry, even weaker than before, and fought back another gust of tears that suddenly wanted to rise when he thought of his career after school, and that Sirius would never live to see it.

Kingsley, Mundungus, Arabella, McGonagall, Bill and Arthur came all up to Harry and shook his hand. Arthur also gave him a light slap on the back and said quietly, "See you later, boy." All the time Remus stood close beside Harry, one hand on his shoulder, just like Sirius used to when he and Harry were standing side by side. The memory remained on Harry's mind and made him swallow hard again.

"Now could you please leave, too?" said Remus to the others. "Harry needs his friends..."

"Certainly," said Tonks hastily, waved at Harry and Disapparated with a loud crack. The others followed.

Mrs Weasley could now finally get to Harry. She looked at him, sighed deeply and said, "I wish I could do anything to ease your pain, Harry, dear." Then, without further words, she pulled him into a warm, motherly embrace and would not let go for another three minutes. Harry, who had expected her to do something of that kind, was almost surprised when he found that it did good. Just like with Remus, he felt that he could trust Mrs Weasley to the bitter end, and that she would still fight like a tigress for him and her children.

When she finally let him go, Remus left Harry's side, took Mrs Weasley's arm and led her out of the living room.

**xxxxx**

Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny faced each other. Nobody said a word. There was an odd feeling of shyness lying above the scene, and Harry squirmed. He looked at his friends. They all looked tired and worn out. Hermione and Ginny looked like they had cried for quite a long time, too; their eyes were small and their faces red. Ron was so pale that even his freckles were affected. When Harry looked him in the eyes, he was quite sure that their blue had turned a little bit lighter, too. He looked at the girls. Hermione's hazel eyes were definitely different from before, and Ginny's... well, Harry had to admit that he had not very often had the opportunity to look Ginny in the eyes. He simply could not tell if there was any difference.

"Ask me, then," said Ginny so suddenly that all the others jumped.

"Ask you what?" said Harry, confused. How did she know what he was thinking...?

"Whatever you were trying to find out," said Ginny impatiently. "You weren't looking in my eyes to flirt, I reckon?"

"Er..." For some reason he could not positively tell, Harry blushed. "I was just wondering... have your eyes changed their color, too?"

"Yes, they have," said Ginny quietly. "As well as Bill's and Fred's and George's and Mom's and Dad's, but the change with me is almost as great as with Mom. The others are rather minor, really. I reckon you've already seen that change in Remus's?"

"Not to mention your own eyes," said Hermione in a low voice. Her voice sounded hoarse as well, and Harry turned to her.

Hermione stepped forward and took his face between her hands. Harry let it happen, as he knew she was now closely examining his eyes. From the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse at Ron, who did not look pleased with something.

Hermione let go of his face and looked up at him. Fresh tears were shimmering in her eyes. "The change in your eyes is the most significant one," she said in a shaken voice. "If it goes on like this, you'll probably have gray eyes by the time the new term starts."

"But what does that mean?" whispered Harry.

Hermione surprised him by pulling him into a hug and giving him a little kiss on the cheek. "It happens to all of us," she whispered into his ear, "and I think I've just found the answer."

"What is the answer, then?" said Harry loudly. Hermione stepped back and exchanged a glance with Ron, who still looked angry at something.

Hermione drew a deep breath. "After all I can say, the change in Harry's eyes is the most significant one of all, closely followed by Remus's. Then next in line are Ron and I, then Mrs Weasley, Ginny and the rest of them." She made a little pause.

"So?" said Ron as she didn't continue.

"Well," said Hermione, and it clearly was hard for her to go on, "we all know that the eyes reflect your soul. I can only guess now, but I think it's true - Sirius's death has killed a very little part of all our souls. They have changed, and that's why the colors of our eyes change. Harry's the most, of course, because he was the one who loved Sirius the most. And then Remus, who was like a brother for him. And then, well, you, Ron, and me... I wouldn't have thought so, but I've discovered that I also loved him in a way, and so must you have done... and you, Ginny... and your mom... and all the others. Inside all of us, something has died with Sirius. And that is why, Harry," she added, now speaking firmly, "you should finally allow us near you again. If you continue staying alone with your grief, there might be more inside you dying, until you're left completely empty. I suppose your eyes are turning gray as that is happening."

Harry was listening silently. He could not explain why Hermione's words moved him so deeply. Was it because she had admitted also to have loved Sirius, which she must know meant a lot to Harry? Or was it the calmness with which she spoke of these spiritual things like souls, so matter-of-factly? Harry didn't know. All that he knew was that his throat became narrower again.

"I'm so sorry," he said. "I'm so sorry that I didn't answer your letters. I knew you were worried about me, but I didn't care for anything, you see... I was indifferent towards you, towards Remus, towards the Order, towards Voldemort... I just lay on my bed and thought of him..."

"We know, Harry," said Ron, whose voice cracked on every second syllable. "How do you think we spent the first few days afterwards? We were shocked to the core... and we couldn't even say goodbye to him."

"Neither could I," said Harry in a very low voice. "He was simply gone, and it took me hours to realize that. If Remus hadn't held me back, I would've jumped through that veil as well, right after him."

Ginny's lower lip trembled. "Thank God you didn't," she said loudly.

"There was a time when I wasn't glad at all that I didn't," said Harry. "But that's over. I'm just so glad that you are here!"

He opened his arms, and Ginny and Hermione virtually flung themselves to him. He put his arms firmly around the girls and closed his eyes. He felt Ron step to his side him, opened his eyes again and grinned faintly.

"Welcome back, mate," said Ron and joined in the group hug by laying both his arms around Hermione, who stood so close to Harry that Ron could easily touch Harry as well.

They stood like this for quite a long while, and Harry reflected on what Remus had said: _There is nothing more important in the world than friends, and you are blessed with true ones. _

Yes, he thought as he drew Ginny closer to his chest and shifted his head a little so that Hermione's bushy hair didn't hinder his breathing, yes, he had true friends. And he would never ever desert them again. One thing he had learned from Sirius was that friends were more important than family bonds, more important than good grades, and even more important than falling in love. This kind of love, that between friends, was more likely to last a lifetime than the best marriage. And he also realized, as they were standing in the darkening living room, that, with help from friends like these, he would even manage to cope with his pain and grief. It might take some time, but he was determined to do it.

He was blessed with true friends.


	2. A Thrill of Hope

Chapter Two – A Thrill of Hope 

Harry did not leave the sides of his friends for the whole evening. The Dursleys, he had learned, had once more been summoned to a non-existing conference by Tonks, where they would also have to stay overnight until they would realize they've been tricked, so that they had the whole evening and at least half of the next day without being interrupted by Petunia's hysterical screams or Vernon's lion-like roars.

Molly Weasley and Remus had re-joined them after about twenty minutes and had found the friends huddled together, clinging to each other, saying nothing. When they entered the room, however, Harry looked up and loosened his grip on the others. Hermione stepped back (as far as she could, for Ron was still standing close behind her), and Ginny moved aside a little as well, though she still had an arm around Harry's waist, and Harry did not take his own arm off Ginny's shoulders.

They turned to Mrs Weasley and Remus, who stood there smiling.

"We did not mean to disturb you," said Remus. "We just heard Hermione say a little while ago that she knows what's going on with our eyes. As we didn't want to eavesdrop on you, we decided to ask you afterwards to repeat what you said."

Hermione looked at Remus, whose eyes were so much different from before, and then to Mrs Weasley. Harry followed her gaze and now noticed it, too. Mrs Weasley's formerly bright blue eyes seemed to have dimmed a little. The change wasn't as big as that with Ron, but it was there, clearly visible.

Hermione repeated her explanation.

When Mrs Weasley spoke, she seemed to be on the verge of tears. "Oh Hermione, dear," she said. "That's such a moving thought."

"I really think it could be true," said Hermione, who felt like being forced on the back foot by Mrs Weasley. "This change is biggest with those who loved Sirius most."

"You're right," said Remus. "You're absolutely right, Hermione. I wonder now how I could forget that. I've read about this phenomenon before. It occurs when a person dies completely unexpectedly and... and..." He broke up, and a look of immense surprise came onto his face.

"And what?" asked Ron.

"Not rightfully," said Remus in a low voice. "That's what it said, I'm pretty sure. Unexpectedly and not rightfully."

"But what does that mean?" asked Ginny. "Why do you look so excited about it, Remus?"

Hermione stared at Remus. Harry could virtually see her brains working.

"Remus," she whispered, "Remus... does it have anything to do with the story of this wizard in Scotland in 1927? What was his name again... Saturnus McGraw..."

"Yes," said Remus. "It's exactly the same situation, Hermione."

"But then..." Hermione went pale and could only whisper. "Remus, that means we could..."

"Could someone please explain what you're talking about?" said Ginny impatiently.

"Saturnus McGraw was a wizard who was killed by a Chimera in 1927," explained Hermione. "It was an accident... the Chimera had been shipped from Greece, and McGraw was supposed to look after her while she was transported to the Ministry. Newt Scamander (you know, the one who wrote the book 'Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them') had ordered one for study purposes or something... well, what does it matter. Someone from the crew of the ship was careless and accidentally lifted the spell from the cage the Chimera was kept in. She could escape and attacked McGraw, who died at once. His friends and family were shocked to the core. Saturnus had adopted a son two years ago, who was, naturally, grieving half to death. This adopted son now tried everything, but he didn't find anything useful. And then he did something that really made Saturnus return, unscathed and mentally completely healthy, as though that incident with the Chimera had never happened. I don't know what he did, it doesn't say in the book, I only remember that it had something to do with fate... Remus, do you know anything more?"

Remus nodded slowly. "I also don't know what he did, but I do know that it said that Saturnus's death wasn't rightful. After his return, he defeated the most evil wizard of that time, Nero Redsnake... what I want to say is that Saturnus was meant to remain on earth until his fate - probably defeating Redsnake - had fulfilled, and his death before that interfered with his fate. So his adopted son was given the opportunity to do something which brought Saturnus back to life."

"But what about the eyes?" asked Ron. "If that change occurs only when such an opportunity will be given, Hermione's theory must be wrong - or do others who lose a beloved one, and whose eyes remain the same, not have a soul?"

"No," said Remus, "of course the others also have a soul. But every kind of emotion affects your soul, and your eyes don't change their color when you're angry or sad or happy, do they? Death and grief are a part of life, so they are bearable. But these deaths I am talking about are unbearable; the grief over them exceeds the normal grief; it's simply more than your soul can take. Saturnus's death, for example, caught everyone completely unawares. And the eyes of his friends and family were changing as well. I suppose our eyes are changing because we grieve more than we actually should, if Sirius's death had been rightful."

Ginny squirmed. "Does that mean..."

Remus turned to her. "Basically it means that Sirius's death was not only unexpected but it should not have happened. His fate was meant to be a different one. And Bellatrix Lestrange offended Fate by killing him. Someone needs to settle the matter."

"What do you mean?" Harry did not dare trusting the idea he had; he did not want to allow that wild thrill of hope rising in him... he could not bear to be disappointed... he needed to be sure.

Remus's voice remained calm, but Harry saw a wild flickering in his eyes. "It means, Harry, that maybe - just maybe, if Hermione's and my deduction is correct - there is something we can do to bring Sirius back."

**xxx**

For a while, nobody spoke. Harry's thoughts were spinning in his head. He needed some time to fully take in what Remus had explained. Bringing Sirius back to life... there was nothing in the world he desired more, and he would have done or given anything for that.

"How... how did that adopted son do it?" Ron asked in a shaky voice.

Remus shrugged. "It doesn't say in the book I read."

"Is there any way to find out?" asked Ginny. "He might still be alive... do you know where he lives? What's his name, anyway?"

"I don't know his name," said Remus. "It's kept secret; nobody mentioned it."

"So what can we do to find out?" asked Harry bitterly. "If we don't know his name and if he still lives, and where, how can we find out about him?"

"I'll ask Dumbledore about it," said Remus. "If anyone knows, then Albus."

Mrs Weasley, who had remained silent all the time, suddenly spoke again. "You needn't do that, Remus," she said. "I think I know who he is."

All the others spinned around and looked at her.

"You all know him," Mrs Weasley continued. "It's Kingsley Shacklebolt."


	3. Kingsley's Tale

Chapter Three – Kingsley's Tale 

"Kingsley?" Remus repeated. "Are you sure?"

"Of course I am not," said Mrs Weasley impatiently. "But just the other day, he and Hagrid were talking about beasts, and he mentioned his father once having been attacked by a Chimera. He did not say that he died, though. But nonetheless, how many Scottish wizards d'you reckon have been attacked by Chimeras in this century?"

"Not many," said Ron, grinning.

"You should go and get him, Remus." Even Mrs Weasley now showed all signs of excitement. "I just wonder why he never told us."

"I reckon Kingsley's not allowed to talk about it," said Remus musingly. "It might still involve some forbidden practices."

"I don't think so," Hermione contradicted. "I suppose he mustn't talk about it because if he would, everyone would go and try to resurrect their dead, also those who died rightfully - and I suppose resurrecting those would go terribly wrong."

"You may have a point there, dear," said Mrs Weasley. "It would explain why the muggles are so very much afraid of the living dead they call 'zombies'. Maybe there were some people who resurrected their dead and they came back as monsters, because they were disturbed in their rest."

"But how do we know that Sirius won't come back as a what's-it-called?" asked Ginny, her eyes wide open.

"His death was certainly unexpected, and I very much doubt that it was rightful," said Remus slowly. "Moreover, don't you see the parallels between his case and that of Saturnus McGraw? Both were like a father to a boy they left behind, and both fought against the most evil wizard of their time - two good reasons to argue if it was a rightful death. It can't be rightful to deprive a boy of his father for the second time..."

Harry lowered his eyes and secretly wiped a tear away. He felt a hand touch his arm and stroke it tenderly.

"The odds are in our favor," said Ginny calmly. "We'll send for Kingsley and hear his story, if he agrees to tell it. We'll know a lot more afterwards."

"I can't stand that, Ginny," whispered Harry. "I've only just started to cope with my grief, and now there's new hope... if it proves to be false hope, I don't think I can endure any longer."

"Stop it," whispered Ginny and took him in her arms. "Stop talking like that. We'll know soon, be patient..."

**xxx**

Kingsley Apparated with a loud crack right in the middle of the living room. When he saw all the serious faces looking up at him, he gave an uneasy chuckle.

"What's wrong, Remus?" he asked. "Why did you summon me back?"

"Kingsley, there is something we must ask you," said Remus. "Won't you please sit down? This might be a bit of a shock for you..."

Kingsley laughed. "It must be a real slap in the face, then," he said while sitting down on Petunia's best sofa. "There is not much in this world that can shock me."

"It's about your past..."

"My past?" Kingsley looked alerted.

"Something that happened in your childhood." Remus spoke carefully and watched Kingsley closely.

Kingsley went pale. "What would you know about my childhood, Remus?" he asked sharply.

Remus stepped beside Harry and laid one hand on his shoulder, again in this casual way Sirius had always done it. "There's lots of things I know, Kingsley," he said, "although I must admit that I learned this one from Molly here." He gave a nod in the direction of Mrs Weasley. "I only knew the story - she knew it was you."

"Who was me?" Kingsley sounded impatient, but Harry could now see that his eyes were flickering, moving fast from left to right. Kingsley did not look relaxed at all.

"The adopted son of Saturnus McGraw," said Remus.

Kingsley stared at him. He did not even try to contradict. "How do you know?" was all he managed.

"Nevermind." Remus stepped closer, pulling Harry along with him. "Am I right?"

Kingsley looked down. "Yes, you are," he said, now calmly.

"Well then, you might already have guessed why we called on you..."

Kingsley looked up and directly at Harry. "You don't know what you're doing," he said. "This is not funny, Harry. Forget it, please. Resurrecting the dead is not allowed. I know that you must miss Sirius like hell, but it's not worth risking your life and the lives of everyone who's near you."

"Risking my life?" asked Harry. "Don't you know I would do anything to bring Sirius back? If it's dangerous, then I'm happy to face the danger. It can't be lethal... after all, you're still here, aren't you?"

"It was different with me." Kingsley looked him in the eyes, and suddenly his facial expression changed. He stared at him, and Harry knew that he had now noticed the change in his eyes.

"Your eyes," Kingsley said in a hoarse voice. "They've changed their color."

"So have mine," said Remus.

"And ours, too," added Ron and gestured at Ginny, Hermione and his mother.

"It's a familiar phenomenon, isn't it, Kingsley?" said Remus. "It has occurred in your own family, too."

"Yes, it has." Kingsley drew a deep breath. "Before I tell you my tale, Remus, how much do you already know?"

"We deduced most of it, actually," said Remus apologetically. "We know that Saturnus McGraw died when the Chimera attacked him, and that you somehow managed to bring him back. We suppose that this was possible because it wasn't his fate to die then - he was meant to remain on earth much longer and do what he was there for. That's why you could do it. We also assume that you weren't allowed to talk about it because then there would be others who tried to resurrect their own dead, probably with fatal results."

"That's true," said Kingsley.

"The change in the colors of our eyes means we're suffering from a grief that we shouldn't suffer. Our souls can't take all the pain, because they were never meant to suffer like this, here and now."

Kingsley nodded. "That's what I suppose, too. He didn't explain it to me..."

"He?" asked Remus. "Who's he?"

"I'll come to that in a minute. Let me just start my tale in my own way..." Kingsley sat up straight. His black fists opened and closed nervously.

"I was adopted by Saturnus McGraw in 1914," he began. "I was three years old. My parents had died; they were killed by Nero Redsnake, who was kind of the predecessor of He Who Must Not Be Named. Not as powerful and terrible as him, but he was evil enough. My parents were Aurors, and they had become a danger for him. Well, I was suddenly an orphan, and so they put me into a children's home. A magical one, of course. But I only stayed there for two weeks, then Saturnus came and took me with him. He adopted me, and he was the best father I could have wished for. In 1927, when I was sixteen, he was attacked by that runaway Chimera. He died at once... I could neither say goodbye, nor could I bury him. His body was... gone."

"Another parallel," whispered Remus to himself.

"I couldn't take it. I spent weeks and weeks alone in my room, first not being able to cry, then crying my eyes out. I had hardly any friends, so there wasn't much that kept me alive. I didn't even want to go back to Hogwarts, although I knew that Saturnus would've wanted me to. When I was finally prepared to meet other people again, I started looking for ways to contact Saturnus. About that time, I also noticed that my eyes had changed their color. As you can see, they're of a very dark brown. But at that time, they were almost hazel. And they looked cold and empty... just like yours, Harry. Well, I tried almost everything. I asked Nearly Headless Nick if there was any chance that Saturnus would return as a ghost, but he said no. I asked Professor Sunbeam, who taught Divination back then, if she could channel Saturnus's ghost for me, so that I could at least talk to him. She said she couldn't. I tried to get hold of a time-turner, but of course no one gave one to me. Everyone knew what I would then try to do, and you might know that it's very dangerous to change the past... moreover, it was too long ago. I would've had to hide for two months, for I would've existed twice. I read every book in the library that had the word 'resurrection' in its index, but I didn't find anything useful. I even took some Polyjuice Potion and sneaked into the Slytherin's dormitory, as I knew that some of them had books about the Dark Arts, and I was wondering if maybe in the Dark Arts there was a way to bring the dead back to life. Unfortunately I only found instructions to create a living dead, a very stupid and ugly creature, mostly already halfway through the state of decomposition, who fed on the brains of the living. Of course I didn't want Saturnus to return as a monster. And then, during the Christmas holidays, I discovered a book at a muggle friend's of mine. It was about angels. The muggles love angels. This particular book was a kind of encyclopedia - you could look up the name of any angel, and his rank and functions were listed. I was just browsing the book out of boredom when a name struck me: Yehudiah. I don't know why it struck me, but I simply had to know what he was responsible for. So I read further and found out that Yehudiah was the Angel of Sorrow and Grief, and that there was a ritual to call him, and that he would then descend and give you consolation. I borrowed the book and took it home, and on the next day I tried to call Yehudiah. My eyes had gone nearly gray by then and still lost color. I know now that it was a very close call - if I had gone on like I had before, my whole soul would soon have died. I did the ritual, and I really had the feeling that the angel was listening to me, but nothing happened. I was disappointed, although I had half feared that nothing would happen. After all, it was a book written by a muggle for muggles, and what do they know of rituals? So I went to bed. But in that night, I dreamed of a beautiful, shining figure who spoke to me in a foreign tongue I couldn't understand. But when I woke the next day, I suddenly knew what to do. I knew that I had dreamed of Yehudiah, and that he had told me what I could do. On the same day, I set off to find him. I never had to ask anyone or invoke the angel again - the knowledge what to do was there in my head."

"So what was it you did?" asked Mrs Weasly eagerly.

Kingsley looked at her. "I cannot say," he said. "I know that I walked for a long time. I know that I met the angel at the end of the way and he led me to another place. I know that we then returned to the place where Saturnus had died. And I know that, when I woke up the next day, Saturnus was sitting beside me. But I can't tell you what exactly it was I did along the way, or where I went. I knew it at the moment I was there, and a second later the memory of it had faded. I suppose this is also so that no one can ask me and then do what I did. I'm sorry, Harry, I cannot help you any further."

Harry was on the verge of tears again. He had set all his hopes in Kingsley.

"Hang on," said Hermione, who had been watching Harry. "This doesn't mean that we have to give up. Maybe there is no pattern or formula to it. Maybe the way is different every time. You might have to call that angel yourself, Harry, and what he'll tell you might be completely different from what he told Kingsley."

"I think so, too," said Ginny. "It's another one's fate, so I think it's pretty logical that there is also another way."

"Which was that book you found Yehudiah in, Kingsley?" asked Hermione. "Did you keep it?"

"I think so," said Kingsley. "I don't remember returning it to my friend... we were all too excited about Saturnus's return..."

"Then go and fetch it, man," said Ron breathlessly. "What are you waiting for?"

"I just...," began Kingsley, but Hermione interrupted him.

"Listen, Kingsley, you can't do anything wrong, can you? You just lend Harry a muggle book, nothing more."

"I'll be right back," said Kingsley and Disapparated without further comment.

**xxx**

Harry, Remus, Hermione, Ron, Ginny and Mrs Weasley looked at each other.

"Do you really think it'll work?" asked Ron quietly.

"It's worth a try," said Mrs Weasley. She did not sound convinced. Harry noticed that she tried to exchange a glance with Remus, but Remus did not look at her.

'He really believes it,' realized Harry. He himself felt very odd. One the one hand he desperately wished for his pain to end, but on the other hand he couldn't really believe that this would work. Magic was one thing, but angels were not exactly magical. They were religious figures, and Harry had never really known much about religion. The Dursleys never went to church, not even on Christmas Day, and so didn't Harry. When he had just learned about the wizarding world, he had wondered if angels were maybe a part of it. But then he had realized that they were something out of the two worlds he knew. He had never neither really believed in them nor exactly doubted their existence, and now he was about to invoke one. Who wouldn't be confused by that?

"Give it a try," said Remus quietly to Harry when he noticed that Harry was thinking about it. "Please."

Harry looked at Remus. He looked as calm as always, but his eyes were pleading. Harry could understand him perfectly; if there was anyone who wished as much as Harry for Sirius to return, it must be Remus.

"Of course I will," he said, and the lump in his throat became bigger again. He had only just realized that he was given a real chance to end his misery and that of his friends. "Of course, Remus."

A tear rolled down Remus's cheek, and he hugged Harry. Harry clung to him, thinking again that, if his parents hadn't died, Remus and Sirius would probably have been like older brothers to him.

"Kingsley takes long," said Mrs Weasley musingly. "What's so difficult in finding a book?"

"He'll be right back, Mom," said Ron.

He had barely finished his sentence when Kingsley returned. He carried a book under his cloak.

"There it is," he said simply and held it out to Harry.

Harry hesitated. He still couldn't believe all this.

Hermione sighed, stepped forward and took the book. She flipped through the pages and shrieked.

"My mom has this, too," she said. "She's a bit into esotericism, you know... but I'd never have dreamed that the rituals in it really work!"

"I don't think they work when a muggle tries them," said Kingsley, shrugging.

"Take it, Harry," said Hermione quietly and shoved the book into Harry's hand.

"You should be alone when you do the ritual," said Kingsley. "Yehudiah doesn't like people who are distracted. It makes their plea seem less important."

"I wouldn't try it at a party," said Harry angrily. Then he turned to Mrs Weasley. "I doubt that I can do it here," he said. "You never know when my cousin might want to interfere... and if Yehudiah sends me on a journey, too, I'd get in trouble with them..."

"Of course you'll come with us to The Burrow," said Mrs Weasley determinedly. "I wanted to suggest that to you, anyway. You've stayed here long enough. Go upstairs and get your things. I'll make sure that your aunt and uncle know where you are."

"They won't care," said Harry. "They only let me stay here because they have to - otherwise they would cause my death or something worse..."

"Either way, I'll let them know," said Mrs Weasley.

"Come on, Harry, we're gonna pack your things," said Ron. He took Harry's arm and together, they mounted the stairs and entered Harry's room.

Ron sneered. "You should let in some fresh air," he said. "It's rather, er, stale."

Harry grinned faintly. "Want some breakfast?" He asked and indicated his uneaten food.

"Nah, thanks." Ron grinned. "I'll feed Hedwig. She looks hungry."

"Hedwig!" Harry rushed over to the cage and opened it. Hedwig hooted, took wing and then perched on Harry's shoulder. He stroked her. "Sorry for having left you alone," he said. "I've had a very hard time, you know."

Hedwig hooted again, tenderly pinched his earlobe with her beak and then flew over to Ron, who gave her a few of his owl cakes.

Harry opened his trunk and started throwing in his clothes and books. Ron helped him, and ten minutes later, they closed the trunk and hauled it downstairs. Harry ran upstairs again to get Hedwig's cage and his Firebolt, which he had received back from Dumbledore on the last day of the last term. His life-long ban from Quidditch had been declared null and void as well, and so had all the Educational Decrees that Professor Umbridge had introduced.

Mrs Weasley was waiting for them at the fireplace. She was opening a plastic bag, which turned out to be filled with floo powder. When Harry and Ron had reached the fireplace, she held the bag out to Ron. "Take his trunk, will you, dear?"

"Sure," said Ron, sighing. He took a handful of floo powder, threw it into the fire, called, "The Burrow!" and stepped into the fire, carrying Harry's trunk in one hand. One second later, he had vanished.

Hermione, Ginny and Remus followed, then Harry stepped forward. He did not like traveling by floo powder, but at least it went quite fast. In two years he would be able to Apparate, then he would not need the floo network any longer. He threw his handful into the fire, clasped Hedwig's cage and his Firebolt and stepped into the fire. He started rotating at his own axis at once and closed his eyes, lest he get dizzy. Then it stopped, and Harry could hardly prevent himself from falling out of the Weasleys' fireplace. He stepped out of it and promptly tripped over his trunk, which Ron had left right in front of the fireplace. This time he _did _fall down, and while he was still trying to tell his arms from his legs, he suddenly felt four arms around him and a loud, rather disharmonic singing: "Potter's back! Potter's back!"

"Yes, I am," he mumbled.

Fred and George pulled him to his feet.

"So good to see you, mate," said George, beaming at Harry.

"Our benefactor," added Fred. "Have you read the article about us in the _Daily Prophet_?"

"Sorry to say I haven't," said Harry. "I haven't read the paper for the past few weeks."

"Go and get it," said Fred to George. "He just has to see it."

George took his wand. "_Accio Daily Prophet_, last Wednesday' issue!"

The paper came flying from the shelf, and George caught it.

"There you go," said he and shoved it under Harry's nose. But Harry shook his head.

"Can I borrow that?" he asked. "I've other things on my mind right now..."

"Sure." Harry could have sworn that George blushed a little - although that was as good as impossible. He had never seen one of the Weasley twins blush.

"Ron already told us," said Fred. "We have all available fingers and toes crossed for you, Harry. We miss him, too."

"Thanks." Harry took his baggage and moved away from the fireplace, where Mrs Weasley was due to arrive at any second. "I'll just take that stuff upstairs into Ron's room. Be right back."

"See ya," shouted Fred.

Harry went upstairs. He heard voices in Ron's room, and when he opened the door, everyone turned to him.

"Just put that stuff down there," said Ron and took a few steps aside. Harry put down his trunk and his broomstick. Then he opened Hedwig's cage and put it on the shelf next to Pigwidgeon's cage.

"Welcome back, Harry," said Bill, who had been sitting on Ron's bed and now stood up.

Ron's room was rather small, so it seemed very crowded with Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Harry, Bill, Remus and Arthur.

"So you think you might bring Sirius back... with help from a muggle book?" Arthur couldn't quite hide his enthusiasm. "Would you be so kind as to lend it to me when you're done with it?"

"It's Kingsley's, not mine," said Harry, who couldn't help grinning.

"And apparently it's not quite harmless," added Hermione with a warning glance at Arthur. "Kingsley said so..."

"Oh, come on, Hermione," said Ron. "Dad's not gonna try and resurrect his grandfather."

"Don't make fun of it," said Remus warningly. "You never know who's listening. If you're to careless about the matter, Yehudiah might think that you don't deserve the happiness of seeing the deceased again."

"But that would be completely unfair," objected Ron. "If I make fun of it, it's not Harry's fault. He can't deny Harry what he asks him for just because I..."

"Cut it," said Bill calmly. "OK?"

"OK." Ron kept his mouth shut for the next thirty minutes.

**xxx**

"I suppose you'd prefer a room of your own this time." Mrs Weasley did not wait for Harry to answer, but showed him another door between Ginny's and Remus's rooms.

Harry did not object. It might really be better if no one was around during the ritual and its preparations. And who knew where he would have to go afterwards...


	4. The Ritual and the Dream

Chapter Four – The Ritual and the Dream 

"Sorry, but I'd like you to leave me alone now," said Harry at about eight o' clock. "I'd like to read about the ritual."

"Good luck," said Fred and George and indicated their crossed fingers. Then they Disapparated. Bill, Mr and Mrs Weasley also wished him luck and left.

Ginny looked pale. "Everything's gonna be alright," she murmured.

Remus put an arm around her. "We cannot but hope," he said. "Harry must go through all this alone. We can't help him."

"Harry," said Ron solemnly, "we'll be waiting here until you come back, and if it takes all night."

"It probably will," said Hermione wryly. "Think of Kingsley - he first did the ritual and then had this dream. But honestly, Harry, we'll be here tomorrow. Don't keep us waiting too long, will you?"

"Wish me luck," whispered Harry. The closer the ritual drew, the weaker he felt. What if Yehudiah would not listen? What if Hermione and Remus were wrong and Sirius had died rightfully? What if...

Harry stopped the thought. He would not yield, not now, not when there was even the slightest chance that it would work.

"Good luck, Harry," said Remus and gave him a short, one-armed hug. Ginny and Hermione both kissed him on the cheek, and Ron, who looked very pale, gave him a slap on the shoulder.

"Do well, mate," he said in a hoarse voice. "Just don't spoil it..."

Harry offered him a faint grin and left the room.

When he entered his own room, the first thing he saw was the book that lay on his bed. He went there, reluctantly stretched his hands out and took it. Then he opened it and flipped through the pages in order to find Yehudiah. Names he had somewhere heard and long forgotten met his eye: Michael... Gabriel... Raphael... Uriel... Hagiel... Cassiel... Azrael... Tzaphkiel... Zadkiel... Metatron... Lailah... Asariel... Camael... Yehudiah!

Harry's fingers and lips started to tremble as he sat down and began to read the passage about Yehudiah:

_The loss of a partner, a relative or a close friend can be a very painful experience. At first, we feel a deep loss, because a part of our lives has become past. Did we do and say everything we could? Did that person know how much we loved him or her? Did we love him enough? When someone dies "before his time", through an accident or a disease, then life seems to be extremely cruel and pointless. The bereaved may even start to doubt the existence of God, as if death was the proof of the pointlessness of life. It is important to remember that there are mysteries in life we cannot understand. Wenn prayers or poems cannot close the wounds of grief, we may find consolation in the old lore of the immortality of the soul. The angel Yehudiah can be called up to 49 days after the person's death - this is as long as it can take a soul to reach its destination - and be asked to grant a safe journey to that soul. Yehudiah can also ease the pain, and there are some cases in which the person who called the angel swore that he saw the person he lost again. The ritual to call Yehudiah is the following:_

_Take a bath. Add some salt to the bathwater; salt cleanses body and soul. Dry with a white towel and rub on some lily oil, then put on a white dressing gown. Light a white candle to your right side and a black one to your left. Place three white lilies in front of you and burn some incense next to it. All the time think of the person you lost. Give in to the grief you feel and let it all out. Then take a piece of clean, white paper and write the name of the person you're grieving over on it with a quill or feather. Use black ink. If you write in Greek letters, Yehudiah will be very pleased and be more likely to show himself. Burn half of the paper in the flame of the black candle and half of it in the white, then throw the ashes into where you burn the incense. Close your eyes and visualize the person you lost. Think of him or her so hard that you think you feel him standing next to you. Then whisper Yehudiah's name three times, then say it three times in a normal voice and then whisper it three times again. When you now open your eyes, you will find a beautiful, shining figure standing where you had imagined your lost friend to be standing. Bow to him and say, "I bid thee welcome, Yehudiah, Angel of Sorrow and Grief." Then you can ask him what you want. He might not answer, but you will know what he tells you. When you have no questions left, bow again and say, "I thank thee, Yehudiah, Angel of Sorrow and Grief." He will then fade away. You will feel better now. Let the candles burn down and throw the rest, together with the lilies and the incense, into a flowing water, preferably a river, on the next morning at dawn._

Harry put the book down. This all sounded mighty superstitious to him. He doubted that every muggle who had ever tried this had seen the angel appear. The whole book seemed very esoterical, and Harry had never had a nerve for that. But it had helped Kingsley, so it would have to help him, too - even if it was a muggle book.

Harry got up and left the room. He hoped that he wouldn't meet his friends in the corridor, as he was keen to start the ritual, and he was lucky. He found Mrs Weasley alone in the kitchen and asked her if she had all the things he needed in the house. Mrs Weasley nodded, left the kitchen and returned five minutes later with two candles, three white lilies and a small bowl of incense.

"Had to Summon that one from the church in Ottery St. Catchpole," she said and winked. "I hope no muggle saw it flying across the village."

She gave him the things. Harry was already on his way out of the kitchen when he turned around again.

"Uhm... Mrs Weasley... I'm a bit ashamed to ask that... do you happen to have a white dressing gown?"

Mrs Weasley couldn't help laughing. "I'll find one, no problem, dear," she said and disappeared again. When she returned, she had a white dressing gown over her arm. "It's freshly washed," she said. "It's not new; I think it's Bill's old one..."

"That'll do." Harry thanked her and went upstairs again. He put everything into place, then he took a white towel out of his trunk and went into the bathroom. He took the bath and did everything as instructed. When he returned to his room, he lighted the candles, burned the incense and sat down between the candles. All the time, he had images of Sirius in his head, and his eyes filled with tears again. He tried to persuade himself that this came from the smoke and the incense, but he knew that it did not. But what had it said in the book... _Give in to the grief and let it all out_...

Harry wrote down the name Sirius Black on a piece of paper (he did not know the Greek alphabet, but he hoped Yehudiah would also be able to read the good old Latin one). A tear dropped down on his handwriting and blurred Sirius's first name, but Harry did not care. He burned the paper in the two candles and flung the rest to the incense. Then he closed his eyes, took a deep breath and started reciting: "Yehudiah... Yehudiah... Yehudiah..."

Suddenly a very odd feeling rose in him. He felt a draft, although there was no window open in his room, and the door was shut - and locked - as well. Yet there was a warm wind in the room that touched him gently, and all of a sudden, Harry felt consolation.

"Yehudiah... Yehudiah... Yehudiah..."

He felt as if someone was watching him, but it was not alarming or uncomfortable. He thought he could feel Sirius standing beside him and half expected that he would lay his hand on Harry's shoulder in his usual, casual way.

"Yehudiah... Yehudiah... Yehudiah."

Harry did not dare open his eyes. He was afraid of what he might see... if there was an angel or Sirius or no one... but there was _someone_... he knew it, he just knew it.

Harry opened his eyes and saw -

No one. Not on his left side and not on his right side. He must have imagined it after feeling that draft that could have come from anywhere, and his imagination had done the rest. All these impressions, the feeling of being watched, the feeling that Sirius was really near, that Yehudiah had heard him and had been about to materialize (or whatever you called that when an angel appeared)... Harry was so disappointed that he wanted to scream. But, oddly enough, he did not _feel _like screaming. Every time he tried to think, 'All in vain, he won't come back,' he couldn't. Although there was no angel to tell him where to go, he felt consoled and relaxed.

Suddenly Harry noticed something else, and his heart jumped. Something _had _changed. There had been three white lilies next to the incense, just as described in the book. But now there were only two. One of the flowers had just disappeared. Harry looked around, because he thought that the draft might have blown the third one across the room, but there was not a trace of it. It was gone.

Harry rubbed his eyes. His eyelids suddenly felt as if they were made of lead. He was so tired that he could hardly get up and blow the candles out. The incense was still burning, and Harry extinguished it with a few drops of water that he took from Hedwig's drinking bowl. Then, without taking off the dressing gown, he lay down on the bed, and a few seconds later, he was fast asleep.

**xxx**

_Harry walked across a meadow that seemed vaguely familiar. After a few seconds he recognized it as the meadow in the Forbidden Forest where Hagrid sometimes taught them Care of Magical Creatures. His feet moved swiftly over the grass, barely touching it, and Harry felt the raindrops between his toes. The sun was setting in the West, painting the most beautiful colors in the sky Harry had ever seen. He walked towards that light, further and further westward. In the distance, he saw a figure approaching. It looked like a tall man, clad in white, who seemed to be shining from the inside in a warm, white light that was incredibly bright but so soft that it did not blind Harry's eyes. As he came closer, Harry noticed that he was not walking but floating a few inches above the ground. The grass and the flowers moved when he passed them; to Harry it almost seemed like they were bowing before him. Harry stood still and watched the figure come nearer and nearer. He now saw that it was a tall and slim yet strong man in white robes. He had a handsome face, dominated by a pair of warm, dark blue eyes, and long hair of a color Harry could not quite make out. Depending on how the light shone on it, it seemed sometimes blonde, sometimes brown. The light that surrounded him was brightest behind his shoulders, and when Harry concentrated on that area, he thought he could see something outlined in that light... maybe a pair of wings..._

_The figure reached Harry and stopped. Harry looked at him, and the angel calmly met his gaze. Without any doubts, Harry knew that this was Yehudiah. He tried to remember the words he was supposed to say, but his mind was completely empty. All he could do was bow his head, which he did._

_When he looked up again, Yehudiah smiled. It was a very kind and tender smile that wiped Harry's nervosity away. Yehudiah turned his beautiful eyes down on Harry and began to speak, or at least Harry thought so. He saw Yehudiah's lips move, but he seemed to hear the words directly in his head. He did not understand the language the angel used, nor could he describe what his voice sounded like. But at the same time, he knew what Yehudiah was telling him. Words of consolation, words of hope... and something else as well. Harry could virtually feel that some kind of knowledge filled him, knowledge of where to go and what to do as soon as he woke up the next morning. _

_Yehudiah stopped speaking and turned his head. Harry followed his gaze and saw a black horse with two wings step out of the shadows: a Thestral. It neighed and trotted over to him. When it passed Yehudiah, it bowed its head as well. Then it stood beside Harry and touched his shoulder with its nose. Harry automatically raised his hand to stroke its skeleton-like nose. He noticed that the Thestral's eyes were dark and warm; different from what he remembered about these creatures._

_Yehudiah smiled again and gently touched Harry's forehead with his hand. Harry felt a feeling of warmth and safety overwhelm him, such a touch of love that his heart threatened to burst. Then his senses vanished and he sank back into the warm, black depth of dreamless sleep._


	5. The Journey Begins

Chapter Five – The Journey Begins 

Waking up was not as usual. Normally Harry woke with a start and was wide awake at once. This morning it was more like slowly reaching the surface of a very deep lake. He was dreamy and drowsy when he finally opened his eyes. Yehudiah's face was still before his mind's eye, and he thought he could still feel the warm beams of light. The strange language Yehudiah had used was still ringing in his ears, and although Harry could not understand a single word, he suddenly felt a knowledge inside. He was supposed to... what? When he wanted to think about it, he couldn't, but he strongly felt that, if he just got started, the knowledge what to do would be there the moment he needed it.

Very peculiar.

Harry glanced out of his window. It was still dark outside, and suddenly he remembered that he was supposed to throw the remains of the ritual into a river - at dawn. Suddenly wide awake, he jumped out of bed and into his clothes, collected the candles, the lilies and the incense bowl, and sneaked downstairs and out of the house. He looked around and tried to remember where the river flowed. He knew that there was one - but not if it was north or south of the house. He eventually climbed the roof of the stable and looked around, and after a few seconds, he discovered the river behind that little group of trees that could not be called "forest," and if Harry's life depended on it.

Harry climbed down and set off for it. After twenty minutes he had reached the banks and looked down into the current. Then he stretched out his hands and threw everything in. He watched it float away, until it had vanished out of sight. Then he turned around and went back.

The sun still hadn't risen, and Harry entered The Burrow without making a noise, crept up the stairs and into his room and went back to bed.

**xxx**

A few hours later, he woke up.

Harry got up and yawned. He felt slightly dizzy. A glance at his watch informed him that it was nine a.m., and now Harry noticed that he was hungry. He went downstairs.

The others were already sitting at the table, but no one was eating. When Harry entered the kitchen, everyone looked at him.

"Morning," said Harry and sat down between Ron and Bill.

Nobody reacted, and Harry looked around. Everyone's faces had turned to him, burning with curiosity.

"It might have worked," said Harry.

The tension seemed to explode. Hermione shrieked and nearly knocked over her cup of coffee. Ginny reached out and grabbed it before it could fall down.

"Oh, Harry, that's so WONDERFUL!" said Hermione and, as she could not get to Harry from where she was sitting, flung her arms around Ron's neck and kissed him on both cheeks. Ron's face went scarlet, but Hermione did not notice, for she had already turned around to Remus, who was sitting on her right side, and embraced him as well. Remus was beaming.

"What was it like?" asked he. "Did he appear or have you also dreamed of him?"

"I dreamed," said Harry. He wanted to tell them more, but to his surprise, when he opened his mouth, the words that came out were the following: "I can't tell you anything about it. I've got to leave this morning."

"Leave?" repeated Mrs Weasley.

Harry wanted to tell her that he had no idea why he had just said that. "Don't worry, Mrs Weasley, I'll be fine. It's part of the mission the angel sends me out on."

"Mission?" said Ginny, Bill and Fred together.

"It cannot tell you," said Harry's mouth.

"But..." began George, but Remus interrupted him.

"Don't put pressure on him, George. We don't want to interfere, do we?"

"Certainly not," said Arthur, who had watched the scene silently.

"But Harry, do you have to go alone?" asked Ron. "Can't we come with you?"

Harry did not know the answer, but nevertheless he said: "I'm sorry, you can't come with me this time. I've got to go through this on my own."

**xxx**

"And you really think you can do this without our help, dear?" asked Mrs Weasley as they were all standing in front of the house to say goodbye.

Harry shrugged. "I wouldn't mind company, but I simply know that I'm not allowed to take anyone with me."

Mrs Weasley nodded. "And you really can't say where you're going?"

Harry shook his head. "I'll know when I get going," said he.

Mrs Weasley gave him a rucksack. "Here's something to eat and drink for you," she said. "I also included a sleeping bag and some muggle money... though I doubt that you're going to a hotel for the night..." She looked rather worried.

"Thank you," said Harry. "And don't worry. I'll be alright."

He hugged the girls, Mrs Weasley, Ron and Remus and shook Bill's, Arthur's, Fred's and George's hands. Then he waved goodbye and left the yard. The others remained where they were until Harry was out of sight.

**xxx**

Harry walked and walked for hours, came through villages and small towns. When it was about two o'clock, he bought a slice of pizza and a bottle of coke in a bakery, sat down on a bench and ate. Then he continued. His feet started to hurt, but Harry paid no attention to that. The rucksack was heavy on his shoulders, and he was sweating. Yet he kept going. He had the feeling that he was getting on faster than a normal human being actually should, taking into consideration that he could only walk. He had passed Oxford at two-thirty, and although he had never been good at geography, he did know that it was at least fifty miles from Oxford to Birmingham - yet he passed a sign at six o'clock that read, "Birmingham 15 miles." That meant that he was walking at an average speed of 10 miles per hour. Harry could not stop wondering at that. But he supposed that this maybe also was Yehudiah's doing. Maybe he had to get to wherever he was destined to go in less than a week or something.

Harry reached Birmingham at seven-thirty. He found himself a bench in a park, sat down and took off his shoes. His feet were sore and blistered. Now, resting, Harry felt exhaustion overwhelm him like a giant wave. He barely had the strength to reach in his rucksack and take out one of Mrs Weasley's sandwiches. He was not very hungry although he had barely eaten all day. He only ate one half of the sandwich, put the other one back and got out the sleeping bag instead. It was not cold, but yet Harry slipped into it and tried to make himself as comfortable as possible.

He had barely closed his eyes when he was already sleeping.

**xxx**

"Hey, you, boy!"

Harry mumbled something and opened one eye. The sun had already risen.

Sleepily, Harry sat up straight. His back ached like hell and his fingers were frozen. He squinted into the light and saw a muggle policeman standing beside the bench.

"Morning," said Harry, who just couldn't think of anything else.

"Have you spent the night here?" asked the policeman.

Harry racked his brains for a good answer. The policeman surely thought that he, Harry, was a runaway. He plucked up his courage, took a breath and hoped that he was a more talented actor than he had always thought.

"Night? What's the time?" Harry tried to sound completely desoriented.

"It's seven-thirty in the morning, young man," said the policeman.

Harry jumped excessively. "Oh my God! My mom's gonna be so mad at me!"

He started to his feet, grabbed his rucksack and stuffed the sleeping bag in. The policeman watched him warily.

"What do you mean?" He asked.

"I've been hanging out with a few friends," improvised Harry hastily, "and when I wanted to go home yesterday, I missed the underground. So I just sat down for a moment, and well, I must've fallen asleep then. I'm sorry... did I break the law?"

"Not exactly," said the policeman, who seemed a lot friendlier now than before. Maybe he remembered his own youth, when he had done some similar things. He grinned. "Was the party worth this trouble?"

"Sure," said Harry and grinned back. "I'm really sorry... can I go now? My mom'll be horribly worried... I'll land myself in house arrest for the rest of my life..."

"Do you want me to take you home?" asked the policeman. "I could talk to your mom, if you like."

"No!" said Harry hastily. He saw that the policeman got wary again and added hastily, "I mean, no, thank you. You don't know my mom. And if she sees me walking up to the house beside a policeman, she'll flip out completely. No matter if I did anything wrong or not, the shock'll make her even more mad at me."

"I see," said the policeman. "Are you an only child?"

"Yes."

"Then I know what you're talking about." He grinned. "Good luck, boy. Now get going!"

Harry waved goodbye and ran off. Since he did not know if the policeman was watching him, he first ran down the stairs of the underground station. He waited for ten minutes, then went up again and stopped two blocks away to eat something for breakfast. Then he continued.

**xxx**

The second day of his journey went pretty much like the first. He still seemed to walk faster than everyone else, and in the evening, he reached Liverpool. But this time he did not spend the night in the city itself. He went eastward in the direction of Manchester until he reached the grounds of the University of Salford. There he found himself a place just outside the university's property that was hidden behind a group of trees and bushes. Harry laid down, cuddled in and fell asleep.

When he woke the next morning, his back ached even more than the day before, and his feet hurt so much that Harry doubted that he could take one more step. But then he thought again of Sirius, and the memory of his godfather gave him strength.

"I'm doing all this for you," Harry murmured. "Just hold on, okay?"

He got to his feet. The first steps were sheer torture, but Harry clenched his teeth and went on.

**xxx**

On the evening of the fifth day, Harry crossed the Scottish border. He started wondering how far he would have to go on. But the knowledge just led him on and on, further into the country.


	6. The Thestral

Chapter Six – The Thestral 

On the sixth day Harry reached a village that seemed vaguely familiar. He wondered how that could be, for he did not remember having been to any village in this part of the country. He stood for a while on the market-place, racking his brains.

Suddenly he heard the sound of a train slowly going by, and then he knew why this village had seemed familiar. The Hogwarts train also passed it, and due to some special speed limit, it always went very slowly. Harry had seen the village out of the window for ten times so far. It was not surprising that he thought he knew it.

What really was surprising was the fact that Harry was not far from Hogwarts. Although Harry had constantly been moving northwards, it had never once crossed his mind that he was bound to come through Hogsmeade, or at least pass close to it. And he knew that this village was not very far from Hogsmeade.

He was just about to ask someone when he remembered that Hogsmeade was the only village in Great Britain where not a single muggle lived; therefore it was very unlikely for these muggles here to know where the village was - or that it even existed, for that matter. So Harry restrained himself from just walking over to someone and ask for it. He did not want to draw too much attention to himself.

He checked his money. He had about fifteen pounds in one pocket, and six galleons, fifteen sickles and a few knuts in the other one. Enough to get some breakfast here.

Harry went into a café and ordered a cup of coffee and ham and eggs. The waitress eyed him warily and insisted that she take the money first. Harry smiled politely, but he gave her not a single penny to spare.

After he had finished, he stood up and went through the village, further northward, following that odd knowledge inside him that told him exactly when to turn left or right or to take a break. The knowledge Yehudiah had given him during that dream. Yet Harry knew now what Kingsley had meant when he had talked about forgetting things. Harry couldn't have given an account of his journey, either. Every time he tried to remember where he had been the previous hours, everything just vanished from his mind. He only knew that he had to go on. What lay behind him did not matter.

**xxx**

Harry estimated that it was past six o'clock in the evening when he noticed that he somehow must have passed Hogsmeade without noticing it. But this was impossible... Harry loved Hogsmeade; he would have noticed it if he'd come through it. Yet it was clear - he was standing at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, no doubt. He could even see the lake shimmering through the trees. Oddly enough, Harry felt no urge to go over to Hogwarts and visit Hagrid or Dumbledore. He supposed that this also was Yehudiah's doing. He would only tarry if he went over to the grounds now. So he continued his path that led him straight into the forest.

Harry looked up. The sun was already starting to set, and the trees cast long shadows on the ground. Harry was constantly walking in the shade. From time to time, he heard noises from the animals, and he once thought he'd caught a fleeting glimpse at a unicorn that sped by in the distance. But he kept walking on, never once looking back or wondering where the path may take him. He still knew exactly where to go without knowing how he knew.

After about thirty minutes, Harry reached a meadow. He stopped dead. This was the meadow where he had met Yehudiah in the dream. This was actually no big surprise, as Harry had, during the dream, recognized the meadow as the one where Hagrid sometimes took them for his lessons. But he had completely forgotten about that fact. Now, thinking about it, Harry found it completely reasonable that his journey had taken him to the Hogwarts grounds. There must have been a reason why Yehudiah had chosen this location for their first meeting.

Harry had barely finished this thought when he heard a rustling in the leaves behind him. He turned and saw a black horse emerge from between the trees. It was very thin and had two wide, bat-like wings: a Thestral. It neighed softly and trotted over to him.

"'lo," said Harry quietly and looked into its dark eyes. The Thestral calmly returned his gaze, and Harry suddenly remembered that there had also been a Thestral in his dream. This surely wasn't a coincidence.

"Did the angel send you?" asked Harry. The Thestral neighed again and nudged Harry with its nose.

"Were you in my dream?" Harry continued and stroked it. The Thestral shook its mane and nudged Harry again.

"What do you want?" asked Harry dully. "Have you come here to show me the way?"

For Harry had just realized that he could not go any further. The strange knowledge in him had led him here, but that was it. And if he wasn't going to meet Yehudiah here, he needed someone to show him the rest of the way.

The Thestral remained on Harry's right side and continued looking at him.

"Am I supposed to continue the journey on your back?" asked Harry. The Thestral neighed loudly.

"Very well then," Harry sighed. He remembered all too well how uncomfortable it was to ride on the back of a Thestral. But he did not have any other choice. "Alright, watch out, here I come," he murmured in a half-hearted attempt to make a joke. Then he groped a streak of the Thestral's mane and swung himself onto its back. The Thestral stood as if frozen to the ground until Harry had made himself as comfortable as possible, then it started trotting, then galloping, and then finally it spread its wings and took off into the sky. Harry clutched both sides of the Thestral's neck. After a while, he had gotten used to the rhythmic moves of the horse, and he relaxed a little. They were flying pretty high now; Harry could see the Forbidden Forest deep down below. To the right he saw the Hogwarts castle, but still he felt no longing to go there. Moments later, castle and forest had vanished out of his sight, and Harry saw the Scottish landscape spreading beneath him. At first, he looked down and enjoyed the sight, but it was getting darker and darker, and soon he could not tell cities from forests and lakes, so he leaned forward, put his arms around the Thestral's neck and laid his head down on its mane. He closed his eyes. Suddenly he felt very tired. Worn out. He longed for his bed, wanted to sleep and forget everything for a while. But then Sirius's image popped up in his mind, the way Harry remembered it best, with a little smile on his once-handsome face, his dark eyes shining with affection and care. The image vanished, but Harry did not allow the scene at the ministry to take over. He did not want the old pain to come to the surface again. After all, he was on his way to bring Sirius back. The thought remained on his mind, and he felt better immediately.

Harry sat up straight again. When he looked down, he could not see anything, just darkness. He patted the Thestral's neck. The Thestral neighed softly but did not slow down. Harry started to wonder if these creatures were ever getting tired at all. They had been flying for at least two hours now, and still Harry had no idea where they were going or how far it would be. From all he knew, they could go on like this for days.

On the horizon to Harry's left there was a dim light, the last rays of the setting sun, so Harry could tell that they were heading northward. It was getting colder and colder, and the wind was aggressively attacking him. Harry tried to cuddle in, but his hands felt like icicles. He ducked down and hoped that the Thestral's head and neck would block the wind, at least a little. It hardly helped. And still they were speeding through the night.

**xxx**

There was light. Harry squinted and saw that the sun was rising. He wondered how that was possible. Surely he couldn't have spent twelve hours on the back of the Thestral... Although it had felt like an eternity, Harry estimated that it could not be later than midnight. But the sun continued to rise, which meant that it must be about six o'clock in the morning. Harry figured that he must have slept for a while, although he didn't remember it. He was still freezing, but the air had warmed a little.

Harry looked down over the Thestral's shoulder and almost fell off. There was nothing but water beneath him. Wherever he looked, just the endless ocean.

Harry clasped the Thestral's neck and re-adjusted his position.

"Say, where are you taking me?" He whispered. His teeth were clattering. "Is it far?"

No answer.

Harry remained crouched for a while. Suddenly the Thestral slowed down and started to dive.

A thrill of hope rushed through Harry. Had they arrived at their destination? He peered out over the Thestral's ears and tried to see what it was aiming at. But he only saw a huge cloud. A moment later, they had dived into the cloud, and Harry did not see anything but gray haze. Moisture set in his hair and on his glasses, and when they were through the cloud, Harry was practically blind. He did not dare to take a hand off the Thestral's mane to polish the glasses. He just hoped that the problem would solve itself. And he was right, for the moisture evaporated, and he could see again.

What he saw made his jaw drop with surprise. The Thestral was about to touch down on an island that lay beneath them. It was rather big and very idyllic. Harry could see trees and meadows. The island lay on a kind of plateau; steep cliffs led down to a narrow beach that surrounded the whole island. As they went deeper, the Thestral slowed down and floated on the wind until it softly landed on one of the meadows.

Harry slid off the Thestral's back, and his legs immediately gave way under him. He collapsed on the green grass and lay there for a few minutes, outstretched on his back. The sun had risen and was thawing his frozen limbs. Harry closed his eyes.

Something warm and wet touched his cheek: The Thestral nudged him with its nose. Harry opened his eyes and made a tremendous effort to get to his feet. He felt that he could sleep for twenty-four hours now, but he had a mission to complete here.

Somewhere on this island he was supposed to find the way to bring Sirius back.


	7. Yehudiah

Chapter Seven - Yehudiah 

"You won't tell me where you've taken me, I reckon," said Harry to the Thestral.

The Thestral looked at him, and to Harry it almost seemed like it was grinning.

"Yeah, alright, I got it," said Harry and stroked its nose. "Stupid me. I know you can't talk."

He let go of the Thestral. "Well, anyway, thank you for taking me here," he said. "I reckon you know why. So I'll go and have a look. Maybe I'll come across whatever I'm supposed to find here."

The Thestral neighed softly.

"Well," said Harry and looked around, "I reckon I'll find you again. So why don't you go and have a look for yourself? Just don't go back to Scotland and leave me all alone here, OK?"

The Thestral touched Harry's shoulder with its nose and then trotted off.

Harry looked around. They had landed on a meadow that was surrounded by trees. It all would have looked perfectly normal if it hadn't been for the colors. Harry could not quite tell what it was that made them special - the trees were just a little too green and the sky too blue to be normal. The feeling of the grass beneath his feet wasn't quite usual, either. It was as if he only felt anything if he looked down. When he kept his head held high while walking, he might as well be floating. And then there was the haze. Harry could not see further than maybe one hundred and fifty feet, the rest just dissolved behind a veil of haze. All in all, he felt like being in a place that was not accessible to everyone. He just wondered what he was supposed to do now.

"Whatever," he thought and blindly headed for one direction. "If I'm supposed to find anything here, I probably will."

He went on and on for about an hour. The trees that had surrounded the meadow turned out to be a whole forest that did not seem to end. But eventually Harry emerged from it and found himself on another meadow. When he stood still, he could hear waves rolling. He must be close to the beach. Harry turned and wanted to go towards the sound of the sea, but then he heard a soft ringing behind him and stopped dead.

The ringing became louder and louder, like the sound of huge church bells, yet it remained distant. Harry wondered what that was supposed to mean. He could have sworn that there was no one living on this island, so who the heck was ringing the church bells? He hadn't even seen a church in the first place, for that matter.

Suddenly he had the feeling that someone was watching him, and although the sun was in front of him, he could feel warmth in his back. Slowly, he turned around.

A bright but soft light was shining right in the middle of the meadow. It surrounded a figure that seemed familiar to Harry. The light seemed to come right out of him, and through the light Harry could see two enormous wings behind his shoulders.

No doubt, Harry was about to meet the Angel Yehudiah.

**xxx**

For a while that seemed to be an eternity, Harry just stood there, paralyzed. He could not take his eyes off the angel, who was now approaching. He looked exactly as he had in the dream, yet the feeling was a complete different one: Harry felt incredibly small and unimportant, facing such a powerful being. And yet he was not exactly shy. He felt secure. A feeling of warmth and love surrounded him.

Slowly, he started to move towards the angel. Yehudiah faced him calmly, smiling.

"At last we meet," he said eventually. "So you have met your faithful companion."

"The Thestral?" asked Harry. "You sent it to take me here?"

"Naturally," said Yehudiah and smiled again. "You would never have found the way on your own. Only the Thestrals and the Griffins know this place."

"Griffins?" asked Harry, startled. "There are _Griffins _around here?"

"Of course there are," said Yehudiah in amusement. "But they never reveal themselves to men. Have you never wondered where Godric Gryffindor got his name?"

"Er... no," said Harry. "But..."

"I apologize," said Yehudiah. "You have other things on your mind than talking about the whereabouts of the Griffins. You called me, and I listened. You have lost a beloved person."

"Yes... yes, I have." Harry swallowed.

"You know why you were able to find me?" asked Yehudiah.

"Because there is a way to bring him back." Harry's voice trembled as he spoke. "His death wasn't rightful."

Yehudiah nodded. "You listened well," he said. "And you were right in calling me. I am the only one who can help you. I am the messenger."

"Messenger?" Harry did not quite understand.

"I have the power to take your godfather back from the place where he is now," said Yehudiah. "But I am not allowed to do it right away. There is something you have to do first."

"Whatever it is, I'll do it!" Harry's throat narrowed, and at the same time, he felt anger and desperation rise in him. His voice rose nearly to a scream. "I'll do anything in the world, you hear? ANYTHING! Just don't keep me waiting... I can't take no more, you see... I JUST CAN'T TAKE NO MORE!"

He struggled for breath, and tears were suddenly streaming down his face. Everything that had made him endure the last week was now boiling up inside him. He thought vaguely that he must sound like a stubborn, obstinate child that did not get his will, but that did not change a bit of what he felt. He was exhausted, weary, shaken and tortured with sorrow, and although he was now here, facing the angel - the _angel!_ - who really had the power to bring Sirius back, he did not feel any better.

He suddenly felt Yehudiah's hand on his shoulder. The touch was warm and tender, and Harry immediately felt better. His tears subsided as images of Sirius filled his head; images of Sirius after his return. He saw Sirius surrounded by the Weasleys, Remus and the others, all beaming at him and firing questions at him. He saw Sirius turn to him, give him a smile, put a hand on his shoulder.

"You will experience these scenes, or similar ones, in a few hours' time," said Yehudiah softly. "You are an inch away from your goal. There is just one final thing you have to do. You have had a horrible time, but you are still here. I see you have a strong will, Harry, and I know you have the strength to pass the last test. Just think of your godfather. Hold on to the thought that he will return."

Harry rubbed his eyes. "Yes," he said in a very weak voice. "I'm sorry. I just..."

"You don't have to explain," said Yehudiah. "Just come with me."

He softly pulled Harry up and shortly stroked his shoulder. Harry felt another wave of new energy rush over him, and he straightened.

"I am ready," he said.

"Good. Then follow me." Yehudiah went in a swift pace, his feet barely touching the ground. Wherever he went, the grass and the trees bowed, just like Harry had seen it in his dream. After a moment of hesitation, Harry followed the angel and eventually caught up with him again.


	8. Fate Itself

Chapter Eight – Fate Itself 

"Where are you taking me?" asked Harry.

Yehudiah stopped and turned his beautiful eyes on Harry. "A place where only very few can go," he said. "A place where Fate itself roams."

"Fate itself..." repeated Harry. "What will I have to do there?"

"You will see," said Yehudiah. "Do not speak unless it asks you something. You can never predict how such a meeting will be like. But dinna fash yourself; ye ken, wee Fate's bin a bit moody lately," he added in such a perfect Scots accent that Harry stopped dead, startled. Yehudiah smiled, and Harry could have sworn that his deep, warm eyes were sparkling. "Don't think that angels have no sense of humor," he said.

"Uh-huh." Harry just couldn't think of a more intelligent answer.

Now again serious, Yehudiah said, "Don't be afraid. It cannot hurt you, and it never would. It cannot break its own rules. Fate is not cruel, Harry, it's neither good nor evil. It's way beyond such categories. Man's knowledge is too limited to really understand the nature of Fate. Its decisions may sometimes seem cruel, but they can be coped with. Only in cases such as yours does it condescend to make itself perceptible for men."

"What... what does it look like?" asked Harry.

"Fate has no shape or body," said Yehudiah calmly. "And yet it can take every form it wants. I do not know how you will perceive it. It could look like the person you have lost. It could look like your worst enemy. It could take the form of an animal or a plant. It could be the puddle on the floor, the moss on the walls or the heat in the air. It could be the knowledge inside your head or the feeling in your heart. Either way, you'll know it when you meet it."

"Is it... scary?" Harry hadn't meant to ask that, but once the words were out, he could not take them back.

"It is furious," said Yehudiah. "Furious at this woman who killed, regardless of what it had planned. And it might indeed be scary in its fury. But you must never forget that it will not hurt you."

Harry did not feel calmed. On the contrary; if it was at all possible, he felt even less calm than before. Maybe Yehudiah shouldn't have told him about Fate's fury... Harry could instantly imagine a hundred things he would rather do than face an angry force he might not even be able to look at.

Harry tried to shake the thoughts off and caught up with Yehudiah, who had been several feet ahead of him. They walked in silence for a while, past a group of trees that were unbelievably green and healthy, then they turned right and reached the beach, where they continued walking. On their right side was the sea, on their left side were cliffs. The sea was of this extremely clear blue that Harry only knew from Petunia's books about the Caribbean. He wondered how this could be, for they must be way up North. And from what he knew, the Caribbean was somewhere else. But then he remembered that this was not a normal island. It probably did not necessarily have to look like any island in the North.

Yehudiah slowed down his pace. "It is not far from here," he said. "You can already see it."

Harry looked in the direction Yehudiah indicated and saw nothing. Everything that was further than thirty feet away disappeared behind the haze that lay over the coastline.

"That is what you are supposed to see," said Yehudiah, slightly amused. "No one can find the entrance to Fate's lair, unless accompanied by me. If you were here on your own, you could stand right before it and still see nothing but the outlines of the cliff through the haze."

"Sure," said Harry, who felt very nervous. "Fate doesn't like to be disturbed, does it?"

"Not without a good reason," corrected Yehudiah. "Fate despises people who try to challenge it because they feel they have been treated unfair. Fairness does not exist for Fate. Only its decisions do. And they are neither fair nor unfair."

"But rightful," said Harry.

Yehudiah smiled. "You begin to understand," he said. "And now take my hand. We are going to pass the threshold."

Harry obeyed. Yehudiah's grip was firm but tender. Without breaking his stride, he went forward with Harry stumbling along at his side. The veil of haze drew closer, but as they approached, it suddenly faded. They went through, and Harry stopped dead. They had been on the beach, but now they were suddenly standing on top of the cliff. When Harry turned around, he saw that the haze was back. He could not see the other side, but when he thought it over, maybe there was no other side. The cliff was incredibly high. Harry did not dare look over the edge. He was already nervous enough, and a touch of vertigo would certainly not make him feel better. He turned around again and now saw the entrance to a cave.

"This way?" He asked.

Yehudiah nodded.

"Do I... are you..." The words got stuck in Harry's throat, but Yehudiah guessed what he was about to ask.

"I am not coming with you," he said. "I will be waiting for you right here. Be confident, Harry. It will not hurt you."

Harry nodded. Then he took a deep breath, turned around and entered the cave.

**xxx**

The first thing he noticed was the smell in the air, or better: the absence of any smell. Harry panicked for a moment because it felt like there was no air at all. He took another deep breath, and although his lungs signaled that everything was alright, he breathed faster to make sure he really wasn't going to suffocate.

Behind the entrance was a short corridor that led to the cave. When Harry emerged from the corridor, he stopped dead in surprise. The cave seemed to be the size of a cathedral. The ceiling was so high it was barely perceptible. There was a flickering light that seemed to come from nowhere but illuminated the whole cave in a light that Harry could not describe. He couldn't even say if it was warm or cold, dim or bright, soft or blinding. It was beyond anything he had ever seen.

Harry took a few hesitating steps and stopped again. What was he supposed to do now?

Suddenly there was a noise. It came from the ceiling, and Harry winced. His heart thudded against his ribs. Tiny stones came rolling down.

"Hello?" whispered Harry. "Er... I'm Harry Potter."

A loud _caw! _startled him. He jumped again and looked around. A large crow, black as soot, came fluttering down and perched on a boulder that sat right in the middle of the cave. It looked at Harry with its shiny yellow eyes and cawed again.

Harry approached. He was about to open his mouth when he remembered Yehudiah's warning not to speak unless he was asked. But how did he know that this crow was really the shape Fate had decided to take and not some completely normal bird that was nesting here?

Harry took a breath and wanted to say something, but the words got stuck in his throat. All of a sudden, he felt the presence of something ancient, neither good nor evil, that watched him. Furious. Harry did not know if he was the reason for its fury or something else, but he felt uneasy altogether. The air felt as if charged with electricity, and he half expected lightnings to flash or his hair to stand up on end or something. If this wasn't a room but the sea, he thought, there would probably be the most terrible hurricane ever, raging and howling, with ninety-foot waves.

Harry felt a strong urge to crouch down, hide his face behind his hands and remain as inconspicuous as possible. But he couldn't do that... he had come so far... he had to think of Sirius, hold on to the thought of bringing him back. He had not endured the long journey just to find that he was too much of a coward to end what he'd begun. So he remained where he was, standing straight, eyes fixed on the crow.

The bird cawed again, and this time Harry thought that he could hear words in the sounds. It was not that the bird spoke; the words seemed to emerge from the sound that lingered in the air after the bird had uttered it.

"Who are you to disturb me?"

Harry swallowed. "Er... my name is Harry Potter. I was brought here by Yehudiah, the Angel of Grief."

"Are you here to set things right?"

Harry squirmed. "Uhm... maybe... what are you talking about, exactly?"

The crow fluttered wildly, and suddenly it was no longer a crow. Where it had been sat now a gigantic eagle that spread its wings and folded them again. The sharp, crooked beak opened.

"I am talking about the major offense I have suffered. About how my plans were disturbed. About this woman who had the galls to kill the man who should have lived."

Sirius! "I am here to speak for this man," said Harry. Suddenly he felt more confident. "Yes, I am here to set things right."

"Who are you to plead for this man?"

"He was my godfather," said Harry very quietly. "But to me, he was a father, a brother and a friend."

"It was not his fate to die now."

Harry's heart beat very fast. He felt that the next minutes would decide over Sirius's return.

"So I can bring him back?" He asked eagerly, forgetting that Fate had not asked him a question.

The eagle fluttered. "Stupid little boy! You can't do anything about it. If you saw what lies beyond the veil, you would lose your mind. Your poor little head could even burst like a bubble. You do not have any power in this. It takes more than a wizard to resurrect the dead. But that is the problem with men - they think they know everything, can do everything, can interfere with me as they wish!"

Harry backed away. "I'm sorry... Please calm down... er... I mean... hold your wrath."

The eagle turned its cruel eyes directly on him. "Who are you to tell me what to do? I could crush you to pieces!"

"Forgive me," said Harry in humility. "I do not mean to offend you. I just want to know what I must do to set things right. Or was pleading for Sirius all I could do?"

The eagle now remained completely still, and to Harry it seemed that the rage in his eyes slowly vanished.

When he heard the words again, the tone had changed as well.

"I see true grief in your heart. I see the weight your soul has to bear. What has caused my fury has caused your pain. We are on the same side."

Harry remained silent, but hope was filling him from top to bottom.

"I want my fury to end. The matter needs to be settled. This man must not remain beyond the veil." The eagle took a few steps to the edge of the boulder. "Now listen, little man. You have done right in coming to me and pleading for this man. It was not his fate to die in the fight that night. His fate is to stay by your side and be you a father, a brother and a friend. He shall be your companion through the dark and dangerous times that lie ahead. Go now with the angel. He will do what is necessary. The one you have lost will return to you."

Harry's throat was so narrow that he could barely whisper. "I thank you."

The eagle rocked back its head, spread its wings and took off towards the shadows that lay under the ceiling. Harry did not wait for it to vanish out of sight. He turned on his heel and ran through the corridor back to the entrance.

Yehudiah was still sitting where Harry had left him.

"It worked!" Harry ran over to him, and only in the very last second could he restrain himself from simply hugging the angel as he would have hugged Sirius or Remus after such an encounter. Yehudiah smiled mildly. "I knew it would," he said.

"It said that you would do what is necessary..."

"That's true." Yehudiah stood up and turned to the sea. "Come here, Harry. We will do it now. Take my hand. We cannot do it from here."

Harry stepped at the angel's side and took his hand.


	9. The Return of the Lost

Chapter Nine – The Return of the Lost 

"How did we get here?"

Harry looked around, confused. The previous second they had been in the in front of the cave, but now they were suddenly standing in the very room of the Department of Mysteries where Sirius had fought his last duel. Harry looked down on the archway and the veil, and his insides squirmed. Fresh pain rose in him and he trembled when he pictured the fighting scene between Sirius and Bellatrix Lestrange. He tried to shake the memory off, but he couldn't. Now that he was back in the place, everything seemed twice as clear as before, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't forget it. And that was not all. The same feeling that had come over him in the cave rose again. That feeling that something ancient was watching him, burning with fury...

Yehudiah turned to him.

"Do not worry," he said. "What you feel is the wrath of Fate. It was here that its plan was disturbed."

"Oh, right..." said Harry nervously. "Er... I already thought so..."

"Do not worry," repeated Yehudiah. "You know it will not hurt you."

"Oh... yeah... sure..." Harry was not convinced - what if it was his fate to be killed by Fate, that was angry about someone else changing someone else's fate... but that was stupid, thought Harry then - if Fate had wanted to kill him, it would have finished him off before, when he had been in the cave... unless it was his fate to be killed in the attempt to set things right with Fate again... Harry lost track of this complicated thought. Maybe he was better off if he stopped thinking about Fate and concentrated on Yehudiah.

The angel stood before the veil and beckoned Harry to come nearer. Harry took a deep breath and went over to the veil. A tear trickled down his cheek as he remembered once more Sirius falling through it, vanishing...

"Do you hear them?" asked Yehudiah.

Harry listened hard. There was a whispering that came from behind the veil... the same he had heard before, and Luna, too... the dead were there, right behind the veil, and suddenly he felt an urge to rush over, pull the veil aside, reach out a hand, feel Sirius clasp his wrist and pull his godfather out of that nothing beyond the veil.

His feet moved without his doing anything. He gained speed... he could not stop, but he did not care... soon he would reach the veil... tear it aside...

"Halt!"

Harry stopped dead, hardly two feet away from the veil. He suddenly realized that he would have gone right through it if Yehudiah had not stopped him. The veil cast an odd spell on anyone who came near it. Harry remembered how Ginny had reacted to it. Gratefully he turned to Yehudiah.

"What is the veil?" He asked.

Yehudiah smiled sadly. "No one really knows," he said. "It was developed by the head of the Department of Mysteries, the Secretary of State for Mysterious Affairs, in 1177. It is a portal into another dimension. When someone goes through it, his body vanishes and his soul gets tossed astray. He might eventually find a way back to where it started - this is why you can hear them behind the veil -, but he can never return into your world. That is why you might as well say that the person who roams beyond the veil is dead - for what is death other than the separation of body and soul with no opportunity to return?"

Harry remained silent for a while. "You mean that Sirius was not dead... not really... all the time?" He asked. "All those people who are there behind the veil... they..."

"They are dead," Yehudiah interrupted him softly. "The only difference is that they can sometimes be heard. But for your world, they are dead. Their bodies are gone. Their souls stay behind the veil, if they ever find their way back there, but they cannot hear you if you try to talk to them. And you cannot see them, even if you could pull the veil aside."

Harry went pale. "But that's... that's hell," he whispered. "That must be hell... or at least purgatory... they're stuck here... all alone... and yet they still know who they are and where they come from, and they remember everyone they loved, and how much they miss them..."

"They do not have to stay there forever," said Yehudiah. "Eventually they find their way and go on."

"And Sirius..."

"Hush," said Yehudiah in a very soft and tender voice. "You will now fall asleep, for what I will do now is not meant for any human eyes to see. And," he added with a surprisingly malicious smile, "you might go mad if you saw what _really _lies beyond the veil. You'd better sleep."

"I don't wanna..." Harry's protest was overcome by a huge yawn. Suddenly he found it impossible to keep his eyes open. His knees gave way under him, and he sank down where he stood. The last thing he heard was Yehudiah's voice that thundered through the room. He still spoke English, but the words did not make any sense to Harry as he slipped away into sleep.

**xxx**

Harry was woken up by a hand that gently touched his shoulder.

He made an effort to open his eyes, and for a moment he did not know where he was. He lay on a hard stone floor, and in the corner of the room, a bright light was just starting to fade. For a second, Harry caught a glimpse at the shape of a man with two gigantic wings right inside that light, then he was gone.

Yehudiah! The events of the last hours came back to Harry in a flash. He sat up straight and touched the spot where the hand had touched him. It was warm. It must have been Yehudiah, who had finished whatever he had done...

Sirius!

Harry turned his head. He was still in the room at the Ministry. Nothing had changed. The chairs and tables were as empty as always, the archway lay still and deserted, and the veil was slightly moving, as if in a breeze. Harry tried to see through it. But apart from a soft blue light that sometimes shone through at the rims he did not see anything.

He had almost turned away again when it hit him. Breeze? Blue light?

He clearly remembered what the veil had looked like last time. The only time it had moved had been when Sirius had fallen through it, and there had been darkness behind it. Complete darkness. Not the slightest trace of blue.

Slowly, Harry turned to it again. The blue light had become brighter and the veil was moving faster, like the curtains on Petunia's kitchen window in a sudden gust of wind. Where did that come from?

Harry wanted to approach, but his feet would not move, no matter how hard he tried. It was like he was frozen to the ground. Eventually he gave up and merely watched. The light was now so bright that he could see shades moving beyond the veil - or at least _something_, maybe the shadows of shades... Harry did not know what souls looked like.

One of those shades grew bigger and bigger. It took Harry a while to realize that this was not one of those shades that just grew - it was someone approaching the veil from the other side. When he listened hard, he could hear footsteps on stone. It sounded exactly like there was someone coming down the way leading to the archway, but there was no one. Yet the shape of the man grew bigger and bigger. He turned his head, and Harry could see his silhouette - a silhouette he would have recognized anywhere... Sirius...

The light grew ever brighter as Sirius came closer. Harry desperately wanted to run over to the veil and welcome Sirius there, but his feet still did not obey him. He wanted to wave his arms, but that did not work, either. And the light grew brighter and brighter...

The veil flew outwards as if in a gale. Oddly enough, Harry did not feel any wind on his face, although he would have been right in its way. When the veil fell back, it separated in the middle like the curtain in a theater, and, in a corona of bright blue light and with the archway in his back, out stepped Sirius.

**xxx**

Harry held his breath. His heart stopped and then started thumping wildly. Harry felt as if it was breaking, bursting and healing at the same time. His knees, weak as they were, were shaking. Tears were streaming down his face, but Harry did not care. He wanted to call Sirius's name, run into his arms, touch him as if to check that he was really there, but he stood frozen to the ground, mute as a fish.

The blue light dimmed and the mysterious breeze stopped. After two or three seconds, nothing reminded of what had just happened - nothing but Sirius, who was standing before the veil and looked at it. Harry watched him back away, his eyes fixed on it. Then Sirius looked at his hands, raised them and touched his own face and his hair. He took a few steps, still backwards, then spinned around a few times and started laughing his bark-like laughter. He rocked back his head and laughed as if he could never stop, and it came deep from the bottom of his heart.

"I'm back!" he roared, addressing the walls and the empty chairs. He still hadn't seen Harry. "I'm BACK!"

Harry watched him and thought that his heart would really burst if Sirius did not finally notice him.

"Sirius," he whispered.

He could not manage more, and although it had been barely audible, Sirius stopped dead.

"Harry?" He said.

Harry wanted to answer, but what came out was a sob that very nearly suffocated him, followed by a shaky laughter and more sobs. He tried to get up, and to his surprise, his legs held his weight. He took a few shaky steps.

Sirius turned around fast. He spotted Harry, and a smile spread over his face, reaching his eyes and making them shine. He opened his arms and Harry started to run. He did not care that his reaction was that of a three-year-old. He ran right into Sirius's open arms, and Sirius swept him into an embrace that pressed the air out of Harry's lungs. He clasped his arms around Sirius's waist and leaned his head against his chest. Then he closed his eyes. The tears that were still flowing were now tears of joy.

They stood like this for about ten minutes, then Harry loosened his grip on his godfather and looked up into his face. Sirius did hardly look changed. He might have become a little thinner and paler, and there was a gray streak in his jet-black hair that had not been there before. But what did that matter? Sirius was back.

"What have you done?" asked Sirius finally. "It must have been you. No one else would do such a thing for me - apart from Remus, of course."

"Well," said Harry and grinned, "I didn't do much, actually. I traveled on a Thestral to the angel Yehudiah, who introduced me to Fate, and then the angel and I came here, and he... well, I actually don't know what he did. I overslept that part."

Sirius stared at him. "Thestral? Angel? Fate? I don't understand a word."

"I'll tell you later," said Harry. "The others'll wanna hear, too." Then he frowned. "That is, if I remember everything. It already starts vanishing..."

"Maybe it's better that way." Sirius looked around. "Say, who did the cleaning here? It looks like we never fought."

"Well, they had three weeks," said Harry, shrugging. "There are charms and spells..."

"Three weeks?" Sirius shook his head. "That can't be... I can't have been there for three weeks..."

"Where have you been?" Inquired Harry tentatively. "Yehudiah said that your soul was there, but your body wasn't."

"Might well be. But listen, let's postpone the story as well, okay? The others..."

"...are gonna want to hear it, too," finished Harry. "You're right."

"So, we should go home then, shall we?" Sirius looked around. "How did you get here?"

"Well..." Harry squirmed. "That's a bit of a problem. The Thestral is still on the island... I came with Yehudiah..."

Sirius grinned. "Very well then, either we take the Knight Bus or we travel by the muggle underground train."

"Let's take the underground," said Harry. He did not want to answer a million questions by Stan Shunpike, the conductor of the Knight Bus, nor did he want to have ten wizards and witches stare at Sirius. He did not know what the _Daily Prophet _had written about Sirius's death, but he reckoned that most of the wizarding world knew that he had died. No, he preferred the underground. Moreover, it took longer, and although Harry couldn't hardly wait to return with Sirius to The Burrow, he was also glad that he would have him to himself for another few hours.

Sirius agreed and put one hand on Harry's shoulder. Together they left the room, and after a few attempts, they also found the way out of the Department of Mysteries. They went up the stairs, and when they reached the Atrium, it held another surprise for Harry: There was no one there. The lifts, stairs, desks and tables were deserted, although it was just about noon on an ordinary Friday.

"Where are they all?" asked Harry.

Sirius shrugged.

Harry just wanted to start hypothesizing when a little statue on a desk caught his eye. It was the golden figurine of an angel with two great wings, long hair and a handsome face that seemed very familiar to Harry.

"Yehudiah?" He whispered.

The statue remained motionless at first, and Harry just wanted to go on when it _did _move: The serious expression on the angel's face shortly changed into a smile and he winked twice.

"Thank you," said Harry, reconsidered his words and then said, "Er, uhm, I thank thee, Yehudiah, Angel of Grief."

He bowed and then caught up with Sirius again, who had watched him with a mild expression of confusion on his face.

"That was Yehudiah," said Harry and pointed back at the desk. But when he turned to look at it for one last time, the statue had gone.

Sirius laughed and laid an arm around Harry's shoulders. "Whoever it was, I thank him, too," he said. "And now we should get out of here. Who knows how long this... whatever it is... lasts. I don't want to bump into Fudge."

"Me neither."

They left the Ministry, and Harry led the way to the next underground station.

**xxx**

"There it is," said Harry exitedly. "The Burrow!"

"I know," said Sirius and smiled. "I've been there before."

"You'll stay with us for some time, won't you?" asked Harry for the umpteenth time.

"I can't decide that," said Sirius and grinned. "It's not my house. You should ask Molly, not me."

The Burrow drew closer and closer, and when they were just still out of sight, Harry stopped.

"Before the chaos starts," he said, "I want to tell you something."

Sirius stopped, looked at him and said nothing.

Harry cleared his throat. He was struggling for words. "I just noticed... I mean, it occurred to me... you see, the weeks after... afterwards, I didn't let anybody come near me. I was grieving so hard, and naturally, I was thinking a lot. What made your... your death worst was that I hadn't had the chance to say goodbye. I was thinking of all the things I never told you. There were a few minor things, of course, but some major things as well that I still wanted you to know. Since we never know what happens, I decided that I would from now on tell everyone right away what I want to tell them. If I always hesitate, it may be too late one day. People have a right to know what I want to tell them."

"That's good, Harry," said Sirius. "That's very good."

"So the first thing is something I want to tell you," continued Harry, as if he hadn't been interrupted. "Do you remember offering me to live with you - when we met for the first time and I learned that you were my godfather?"

Sirius nodded. "Of course I do," he said.

"And then I saw your house, and you were very reluctant to talk about the matter any more," said Harry. "Although I said I'd love to live with you."

"Well," said Sirius, "I just thought this house wouldn't be what you imagined, and you just said that because you didn't want to disappoint me..."

"Let me finish talking, please," said Harry. "You know I hate my aunt and uncle, but I have to stay with them because the fact that I can still call their house home protects me from Voldemort. That's why I really can't move in with you. But what I want you to know is that I would prefer your house to Buckingham Palace, if I had a choice. I'd live in a cave if it was with you. See, Sirius, you are the only father I've ever known, and you're not only a father to me, but a brother and a friend as well. You are one of the most important persons in my life, and I want you to know that I love you. I love you so much."

Harry stopped and looked at Sirius.

Sirius's voice sounded hoarse as he spoke. "That means the world to me, Harry," he said, deeply moved. "I've tried my best to be you a father, or at least a godfather."

"That's what you are," said Harry quietly. "Don't change. Please."

"I won't," said Sirius. "And I promise you another thing, Harry. I will never ever leave you alone again."

He hugged Harry, and for a few minutes they stood on the path, saying nothing.

Then Sirius loosened his grip, and they continued the way, side by side, Sirius with his hand on Harry's shoulder, just like father and son who returned from a short walk.


	10. The Story of Sirius

Chapter Ten – The Story of Sirius 

"How come they didn't see us walking up to the house?" asked Harry as they mounted the stairs to the front door of The Burrow.

"Maybe Molly's doing the cooking," said Sirius, grinning. "Then everyone's helping her."

"Or they've already given up hope." Harry knocked three times. "I'm so looking forward to seeing their faces!"

Sirius said nothing, but Harry noticed that his right foot was tapping nervously on the ground.

Finally, the door opened. Harry caught a glance at Fred, who had opened it, and whose jaw now dropped open.

"Harry... oh my God... Sirius!" Fred, for the first time since Harry knew him, was at a loss for words.

"That's my name," said Sirius when Fred kept opening and closing his mouth without uttering a word. "Nice to see you, George... no, wait a minute, you're Fred, right?"

Fred nodded and finally managed to speak.

"Oh my God," he said. "So Harry really managed to call that angel... MOM! DAD! GEORGE! REMUS! THEY'RE BACK!"

Both, Harry and Sirius, had jumped when Fred had so suddenly started to shout. One moment later, there was loud clatter back in the house - the rest of the Weasleys coming down the old wooden stairs, Harry supposed. Fred had pulled himself together and gave Harry a slap on the back.

"Well done," he said, beaming at him. Then he turned to Sirius and quite obviously did not know what to do or to say. He was just about to stretch out his hand and shake Sirius's when Ron and George came running and reached the door, closely followed by Bill, Hermione and Ginny. Arthur and Molly were behind, and Remus kept in the back.

Ron could not stop in time and bumped into Fred. He lost balance himself, and both the boys fell against Sirius, who quickly took hold of the door, lest he fall down himself. He laughed. A moment later, George also joined them. Sirius swept them all into a bear hug that made their heads go red. Harry stood beside him and just grinned. When Sirius released Ron and the twins, Ginny and Hermione flung themselves into his arms. Harry turned to Ron, who had come to him now.

"Man, you've caused quite a fuss here," said Ron, who could not stop grinning. "Look at Hermione, she's hyperventilating!"

"It's her right," said Harry. "You should have seen me when he came back. I behaved like a three-year-old."

"Of course you did," said Ron without further comment. "I don't know what I would behave like if I saw Dad again after he had been declared dead."

"Look at your mom," said Harry. He indicated Mrs Weasley, who was sobbing at Arthur's shoulder. Sirius was talking to Bill, but when Remus approached, he stopped talking and looked at his friend.

Harry could not hear what Remus said, but he saw tears in his eyes, and Sirius seemed to be struggling for his composure, too. Remus was still talking, but Sirius finally interrupted him by taking him firmly in his arms. Harry was moved by the scene, and to prevent himself from crying again, he quickly turned to Ron, who had also watched Sirius and Remus.

"That's friends, aren't they?" He said quietly.

Ron nodded.

Mrs Weasley spotted Harry and ran over to him. Still crying, she swept him into her arms and pressed him to her. "I knew you would save him," she whispered. "I just knew it... Harry, dear, you were wonderful!"

"Thanks, Mrs Weasley..." Harry felt slightly breathless.

"Call me Molly," said Mrs Weasley. She was calming down now. "I've been meaning to tell you for ages, Harry - I'm sick of that 'Mrs' all the time. You are like a son to me... it feels very odd to be called 'Mrs' by a son."

"Alright, Molly." Harry smiled. Mrs Weasley released him and went back to Arthur, Bill, Remus and Sirius.

Hermione and Ginny now joined Harry and Ron. Both were beaming.

"Oh Harry, isn't that wonderful?" said Hermione. "You really brought him back..." She jumped from one foot on the other and seemed unable to stand still for a second. "It's so wonderful," she repeated. "I could embrace the whole world. Even Malfoy."

"You'd better not," said Ron, looking grumpy.

"Don't worry, Ron," said Hermione and laughed. "He's not here, anyway. And I would think twice before I touched him voluntarily. I'm just so GLAD!"

She flung both arms around Ron. Ron automatically stretched his arm out and put it around her shoulders. He pulled her closer.

"Is Sirius going to tell us what happened to him?" asked Ginny. "Can he remember it at all?"

"Parts of it," said Harry. "He didn't want to believe me at first that three weeks had already passed."

"I hope he's really okay," said Ginny.

"Sure he is." Harry' thoughts wandered back to the conversation with Sirius on the way from the village to The Burrow. He had said that he wanted to tell everyone at once how he was feeling about them, so that he would never again have to regret not to have told something. Was there anything he wanted to tell his friends? Anything they did not know yet?

He looked at Ron and Hermione, who still stood very close together with their arms around each other. He doubted that they had themselves noticed what was going on between them. He looked away and caught Ginny's glance. She was smiling, and Harry smiled back.

"Come here, Ginny," he said without thinking and pulled her into an embrace. He felt Ginny cling to him and was surprised how right that felt. It was so different from Cho Chang. With Cho, Harry had always been nervous because he did not know what she expected from him. With Ginny, everything was easy. There was no need to get nervous. It just felt... right.

"Okay, kids, are you coming?" asked Sirius at that moment.

Harry blushed a little and released Ginny. Ron and Hermione did not blush but hastily let go of each other.

Sirius smiled. "I just thought you'd like to hear my story as well," he said. "Of course, if you have other things to do..."

"No!" The four had answered together, and Sirius jumped.

"No need to scream at me," he said. "So let's go to the kitchen then, shall we?"

The others followed him.

When they had all somehow managed to find a place at the table, all faces turned to Sirius.

Sirius looked at them. "It's difficult to find a beginning," he said.

Remus, who was sitting beside him, laid one hand on his arm, "Are you sure you can do it, Sirius?" He asked. "Telling us what happened when you died..."

"I didn't die," said Sirius. "Not exactly. And if I did, dying is not what we always thought it would be."

He cleared his throat. "Actually, there's not much to tell," he said musingly. "When Bellatrix hit me with her curse, I lost my balance and fell through the veil. It took me an age to fall; everything seemed to be in slow motion. I remember that I worried about hitting the ground - you see, I also thought I'd just go right through the veil and fall down on the stone floor on the other side of that archway. I suppose we all thought so."

Harry nodded. He remembered trying to look through the veil and spotting Sirius on the other side.

"The curse hadn't hurt me, but I thought I might break a bone or two, hitting the ground. But I never hit it."

Sirius paused for a moment and stared blankly at the wall. Then he continued.

"It was a very odd feeling. First I thought I must have gone k.o., for I just kept falling and falling, I don't know how deep. There was nothing around me, just darkness, no firm object that went past, showing me how fast I was falling.

"After what seemed like hours to me, I started wondering where I was going. I still didn't accept the thought that this was really happening, so I tried to influence the course of this supposed dream by telling myself, 'Wake up, Sirius, this is stupid. There's a battle going on, and there are people you love who are involved in it.' It didn't work.

"After a while I heard voices. I was relieved at first, for I thought I was now waking up, but I was still falling through darkness. I couldn't see anything, not even my own body. And then, when I wanted to pinch myself to check if this was happening or not, I couldn't even _feel _my body. There was nothing. I got scared then, for I didn't know where I would end up.

"The voices drew nearer, however, and I started listening harder to them. I couldn't distinguish between them, but they were definitely louder than before. It seemed like I was heading in their direction. And then I started worrying if these people would be able too see me in that darkness... moreover, if my body had gone, I'd be practically invisible. I then struggled to catch my fall, and to my surprise, it worked. I was falling slower and slower, until I kind of hovered in the air. I tried to move in a certain direction, and that worked as well. It was like walking in space, but without a body. My brain kept ordering my legs to walk, and I really moved, but there was nothing to walk with. This is what it must feel like to be a ghost, or at least something similar. At least a ghost can still see his limbs. I couldn't. It was then that it occurred to me that I might not be dreaming.

"I read about astral projection, that is, the ability to leave your own body, and I thought that this might be something like that - that I'd somehow managed to leave my body without intending it. I tried to move back into the direction I had come from, for I thought, if I just went back the same way, I'd find my body and get back into it. But my sense of direction had completely vanished. I didn't know anymore where I'd come from; there was no right or left or up or down. Just nothingness.

"After I'd struggled for another few hours, I gave it a break to think. The voices had eluded again, and I decided to follow them. If I couldn't get back, I'd at least find someone else who might tell me what happened. But after I had searched for what seemed to last an eternity, and still hadn't found anyone, I paused again. I was neither tired nor hungry, but I felt very ill at ease. I started worrying if I was ever to get back at all."

Sirius paused again and looked around at the table. Everyone was listening with eager faces. Hermione's mouth stood a little open, Ginny's eyes were as wide as saucers, and Ron's hand lingered in the air, as if he had been about to scratch his nose and then forgotten to complete the move. Harry returned Sirius's gaze and thought he saw a very little smile in the corners of his godfather's mouth, sad and heartbreaking. When Sirius started speaking again, his voice sounded hoarse.

"Fear, anger and pain hit me with a blast. I wanted to scream. I had to get back somehow, I just had to. I wasn't prepared to leave; even if this wasn't death, it was the closest to it I'd ever heard of. I desperately wanted to return to the others and complete my mission, do what we came for."

Sirius turned to Harry.

"What hurt me most was the thought of you, Harry. I just couldn't die - you were still there, and I had sworn to myself and to James that I'd take care of you. I kept thinking that fate just couldn't be so cruel as to deprive you of the closest thing to a father you'd ever known. The thought literally made me sick with sorrow, but it also gave me strength. I'd come back, no matter what it would take. And then I started looking for the way back. I vowed not to give up before I'd found it."

Harry's throat narrowed again, and he quickly looked away. He was not the only one who was moved by Sirius's words: Molly's eyes were blinking, Ginny had leaned against Bill, tears in her eyes, and Hermione had clasped Ron's hand, though neither of them seemed to have noticed.

"I went..." Sirius cleared his throat again.

"Take your time," said Remus softly.

"I went on and on. I lost all sense of time. There was just darkness, no sign of day or night. I never got hungry and I never got tired. There's a muggle poet who once wrote, 'The time is out of joint.' I now know what he meant. Time was really out of joint. In fact, it felt like time didn't exist at all.

"And then, after a thousand eternities, the voices came closer again. I screamed and shouted, but no one reacted. And even when the voices had drawn very close, I couldn't distinguish between them. I tried again to draw attention to myself, but when I spoke this time, I couldn't even understand my own words. No matter how loud I screamed or how accurately I spoke, all that came out was a monotone whisper completely similar to what I heard from the other voices, impossible to be heard or understood. I then understood that I was really dead, or at least in a state very close to that. For what is death other than the separation of body and soul with no opportunity to return?"

Harry winced. These had been Yehudiah's words as well.

"I first didn't know what to do." Sirius smiled faintly. "I mean, there wasn't much I could do, but I couldn't decide which feeling I should allow to be predominant in me - fear, rage, sorrow, dreariness, indifference? How were you supposed to react if you found out you're dead? I decided not to give in to any of these feelings. I was obsessed with the determination to find the other side of the veil. But when I finally found it, it was a harsh disappointment."

"You found the veil?" Ron asked, surprised. "But I thought it was impossible to get back!"

"Getting back to the veil and getting _beyond_ it are two different things, Ron," said Sirius. "I eventually found the veil but found that it was impossible to come near it. It was like there was an invisible barrier. I could see it, I could even see _through_ it - partly, at least, and of course I couldn't see clearly -, but I couldn't get near. I tried and tried, but I had to give up after a while, as it was pointless. I tried to scream, to address someone in the room, but it was the same as before - my voice just merged with those of the others, reduced to a mere whisper. I remained where I was, though. At least I could see _something_, even if it was only a room at the Ministry of Magic, where hardly anyone ever seemed to come. I still hadn't quite given up the hope that someone would finally hear me and get me out of here."

"And you couldn't communicate with the others?" asked Bill.

Sirius shook his head. "I figured that was part of our curse. I was completely alone, and in addition tortured by the knowledge that the world I knew was only a few steps away, yet impossible to reach. It was then that I gave in to my desperation."

Remus laid one hand on Sirius's shoulder as he stopped again and stared blankly down on the floor.

"Skip the rest," he said. "Tell us what happened when you were returned."

Sirius nodded. "As I said before, I had lost all sense of time. When Harry told me that I'd been away for three weeks, I couldn't believe it. To me it had on the one hand felt like eternity, of course, but on the other hand, thinking rationally, I'd reckoned it had been a week or even less. But time didn't matter there.

"Well, then one day, there was something different. I saw two persons in the room beyond the veil and made another futile attempt to draw their attention to me. They didn't hear me, of course. But I kept watching them. One of them was standing, and the other one suddenly sank down to the ground, as if falling asleep."

"That would have to have been me," said Harry. "I told you I overslept the most important part."

The others laughed, and even Sirius grinned.

"The other one then approached the veil, and I felt a great thrill of hope rise in me. But he came closer and closer, and I started to fear for him. I tried to warn him, but he came ever closer. There was a light about him, very bright, but so soft that it didn't blind my eyes - although I had seen nothing but darkness for a long time. He came closer and closer, and just when I thought he'd fall through, he vanished. The veil moved as if in a breeze, but there was not a trace of him left. And then I felt a strong urge to turn. I had the feeling that someone was beckoning me, and I turned and went... floated... whatever it was I did... in the direction it led me. After a while I saw a very small, shining figure appearing in the distance, and as we were approaching each other, it grew and turned out to be an angel."

"Yehudiah," whispered Harry.

"The angel," said Sirius and nodded. "He didn't tell me his name. I asked him what he wanted from me, and he said that he was sent to take me back. I couldn't believe it at first, and I started firing questions at him. But he wouldn't answer. He just said that my cousin Bellatrix had ended my life before it was meant to end, and that she had interfered with Fate by doing so. This was why I was given the opportunity to return - only if someone pleaded for me, though. And the angel said that someone had come to him and done so. I knew at once that it must have been Harry. Well, and that's about it, I think... the angel touched me, and suddenly I could feel my body again. There was a silent explosion of blue light behind the angel, and he said goodbye and was gone. I turned around.

"The blue light illuminated the archway that suddenly lay in front of me. I was walking on solid ground again. I went on, straight to the veil, and this time there was no barrier. It opened before me like the curtain in a theater, and I just went through and found myself in that room at the Ministry. I think I sort of flipped out - I ran around, dancing and screaming and laughing like crazy. And then I heard someone say my name, turned around and saw Harry. Well... you know the rest."

**xxx**

For a while, nobody spoke. Then Molly got up, walked over to Harry and took him in her arms. She wouldn't let go for at least five minutes, but Harry did not mind. In fact, he was glad, for he was about to start crying again, and he had the feeling that he'd spent most of the week crying, and he started to feel slightly ashamed about that. He didn't want his friends to think that the three weeks of grief had turned him into a sissy.

When Molly let him go, the scene had changed. The others were all standing around Sirius, reassuring him that they were happy beyond measure that he was back.

Harry smiled as he caught Sirius's eye, and Sirius grinned back.

Arthur suddenly left the table and ran upstairs. Harry wondered what had come to his mind, but when he returned five minutes later, he just shook his head as Harry made as to open his mouth and ask him.

"You'll see," he said.

Harry - and all the others as well - indeed saw what he'd done, for about ten minutes later, there was a noise as if a gust of wind was going through the room, and out of what seemed to be a very small whirlwind stepped Dumbledore.

Arthur winked as Harry looked at him and whispered, "I sent him an owl."

Sirius turned to Dumbledore, who went over to him, his arms outstretched, smiling.

"Sirius! So it's true!" Dumbledore took Sirius's right hand with both his hands and held it for a moment. "I had almost given up the hope that it would be possible for Harry to get to the angel."

"You knew it?" Harry burst out. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Dumbledore turned to him. "I couldn't," he said. "For Yehudiah only listens to those who have grieved long enough. If I had told you right away that there was a possibility to bring your godfather back, you wouldn't have grieved at all. You'd even have been happy, wouldn't you? And then Yehudiah wouldn't have heard you calling. Only those who truly and deeply grieve, grieve so deep that their souls slowly start to die, get a chance to see the Angel of Grief."

"As for the souls," said Hermione suddenly and smiled, "Harry, won't you come over for a sec?"

Harry frowned, but he did as he was told. Hermione stood before him and closely examined his face.

"Your eyes are nearly as green as they were before," she said. "There's only a very little shade of gray left; I suppose that'll fade in a few days' time."

Harry, who had completely forgotten about his eyes, grinned. "I'm very pleased to hear that," said he.

"So am I," said Remus, who had heard what Hermione had said. "I've begun to hate this light blue of my eyes."

Harry looked up at him. Remus smiled. The blue color of his eyes had deepened again; to Harry it almost seemed as if they were of an even darker blue than before. The familiar warmth was back, and without thinking, Harry put his arms around Remus and hugged him.

"I'll be forever grateful, you know," said Remus softly. "You brought back the best friend I ever had."

Harry felt that he did not have to answer.

He let go of Remus and walked over to Sirius, who was still talking to Dumbledore. Sirius looked at him and smiled.

"We were just talking about you," said he, put an arm around Harry and drew him close to him. "I just told Albus that I do not intend to ever leave you alone again. He'll have to find me some dungeon at Hogwarts where I can sleep, for I will not return to Grimmauld Place as long as you're at school."

Dumbledore lowered his eyes, and Harry saw them twinkle in the old familiar manner.

"You know, Sirius," he said musingly, "I guess I already have one of my little ideas."


	11. Back to Hogwarts

Chapter Eleven – Back to Hogwarts 

"Do you have everything?" asked Molly.

"Yes, Mom," said Ron a little bit annoyed. "You've been asking that for hours now."

"You might still have forgotten something," retorted Molly sharply.

"But I haven't!"

"Oh, cut it, you two," said Arthur bracingly, which earned him a furious look from his wife and a grateful one from Ron. "I'm confident that no one has forgotten anything. And even if they have, where's the problem? We can always send Errol to take it to them."

"You know, Arthur," said Molly, changing the subject, "I've been thinking about Errol. Don't you think it's time he deserved to retire? We could buy a new owl at Diagon Alley or in Hogsmeade, if you like."

"That's a very good idea, Molly," said Arthur. "We could go to Hogsmeade when the kids have their weekend there... meet them there, have a butterbeer at the 'Three Broomsticks' and then buy a new owl. How would you like that?" He asked Ron, Harry, Hermione and Ginny.

"Sounds good," said Ginny, grinning. "I've already feared you two would use old Errol until he got a heart attack and fell off the sky."

"Nah, we couldn't risk that," said Molly. "Old Errol deserves a rest."

"Then it's settled," said Arthur, beaming. "Alright, kids, are you ready?"

Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny nodded.

"Then off we go." Arthur grabbed two trunks at random and left the house. He had been successful in organizing two cars from the Ministry, which would take them to the station. When the others followed, Arthur had already stored the trunks in the cars and went back to get some more.

Fred, George and Bill stood lined up beside the first car. Remus and Sirius had left two days before, but Sirius had promised Harry that they wouldn't be gone longer than a week.

"Have a nice year," said Fred.

"And try not to get into trouble with Filch," added George.

"Be nice," said Fred.

"Work hard," said George.

"And..."

Fred was interrupted by Bill's outburst of laughter. He turned to his brother, pretending to be annoyed.

"I wasn't kidding," he said.

"No way," said George, who was giggling himself.

"Cut it," said Bill when he could speak again. "You'd deserve an award for your acting skills."

Fred and George beamed at him.

"Nah, seriously, I hope you'll be fine," said Bill to Harry, Ron, Ginny and Hermione. "I'll try to visit you."

"That would be cool," said Ginny.

Bill gave everyone a short hug and then went back to the house. Fred and George shook Harry's and Ron's hands, hugged Ginny and gave Hermione something between a hug and a slap on the back.

"We'll keep you up to date," said George with a conspiratorial smile.

Harry grinned back.

"Okay, are you ready?" Arthur clapped his hands. "Then into the cars!"

**xxx**

Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny waved their hands until Molly and Arthur were out of sight. They had at once found an empty compartment on the train.

They had just settled down and packed out the cards for a few rounds of Exploding Snap, when the compartment door opened and Neville entered.

"Hi," he said. He cast Harry a quick glance as if to check that he was okay, then indicated a nearly empty seat beside Ron. "Can I join you?"

"Sure," said Ron hastily and stuffed the things he had put on the seat back into his trunk. "How are you?"

"Fine," said Neville and sat down. "And you?"

"Couldn't be any better," said Ron and grinned. "How were your holidays?"

Neville shrugged. "Well, nothing important happened. My grandma was very nice, though. Apparently Dumbledore told her that my results at school were quite good last year - despite Potions and Umbridge's class."

"I wish I could have given you a mark as well," said Harry and laughed. "But your OWL in Defense Against the Dark Arts wasn't bad, was it?"

"Not at all," said Neville grinning. "And that's all thanks to you, Harry. Are we continuing DA this year?"

Hermione laughed. "Unless Umbridge returns, I don't think there is any more need to do it," she said. "I really hope that the DADA classes go back to normal this year."

"Who'll be teaching the subject, anyway?" asked Neville.

The others fell silent. They hadn't thought of that.

"No idea," said Ginny finally, shrugging. "But I wouldn't care even if it was Snape. As long as that Umbridge woman doesn't return."

Harry agreed.

They all fell silent, and when Harry looked at Neville, he found that he was staring at him.

"What's wrong, Neville?" He asked.

Neville jumped. "I'm sorry, Harry," he said, blushing. "I was just wondering... you look so happy, but haven't you lost a friend?"

"Oh, you mean Sirius," Harry said. "Well, yes, you're right, Neville, I lost him. But he has returned."

"He has what?" Neville's eyes widened. "How?"

Harry told him what he remembered of the story, and when he had ended, Neville could not close his mouth again.

"But that's a miracle," he said.

"Well, yes, maybe."

Harry wanted to say more, but right at that moment, someone knocked on the door. Half expecting to see Malfoy, Harry looked up, but in walked Luna Lovegood. Well, thought Harry, Malfoy probably wouldn't have knocked.

"Hello, Luna," he said.

"Hello," said Luna in her normal out-of-this-world voice."Congratulations, Harry. I already heard about it."

"How?" asked Hermione, frowning. "The _Daily Prophet _hasn't been informed yet."

"But the _Quibbler _has," answered Luna. "Dumbledore thought it was a good idea to first write about it in such a magazine, so that the wizarding community wouldn't be too shocked."

Hermione looked confused, as if she tried to figure out if Luna was kidding or not. Harry grinned.

"Sit down with us, Luna," said he and indicated the last unoccupied seat beside Neville. Luna nodded and sat down.

"Er... how were your holidays?" asked Ron.

Luna turned her hazy eyes on him. "Fine, thank you, Ronald," she said. "You see, my dad had an immense success with the magazine. Ever since he published the interview with Harry, he has sold three times as many issues than before. And now with the article about the return of Sirius Black, he might as well double the sales. It comes out the day after tomorrow."

"Do you happen to already have a copy with you?" asked Harry.

"Sure," said Luna and reached in her bag. She took out the latest issue of the _Quibbler_, which had a large picture of Sirius on the front. The headline said, "Sirius Black Returned From The Dead: The Whole Story, Complete And Uncut".

"Did your dad do an interview with Sirius?" asked Hermione.

"Not exactly," said Luna. "But Dumbledore told him about it."

Harry was just about to start reading when the door opened again and Malfoy stuck his nose in.

"Well, well, well, what have we here?" He said. "Potter and the rest of the pathetic gang."

"Hi Draco," said Harry cheerfully. "How are things? Have you already visited your dad at Azkaban? I hope he's made himself comfortable there - now that he no longer has Fudge on his side, he might have to stay there for some, let's say, thirty years?"

Anger flashed across Malfoy's face. "I'm gonna pay you back for that one," he hissed. "You and your loser friends. But well," he smiled maliciously, "there's already one less in your gang, isn't there, Potter? Your coward godfather Sirius Black... I heard that Bellatrix Lestrange finished him off in no time... I bet you were crying your eyes out, Potter, weren't you? Wished you still had a daddy to run to..." Malfoy grimaced, mimicking a crying baby. "Oooh, Daddy, oooh... that baaaad woman has killed Uncle Sirius... oooh..."

"Shut your mouth," said Harry, remaining unimpressed, and turned to the article again. "I'm trying to read something, if you haven't noticed that already."

Malfoy looked startled. The vicious grin on his face suddenly hung slightly askew. He had not expected Harry to remain so cool when he was, as he thought, twisting a knife in a fresh wound.

"Trying to be brave, Potter, aren't you?" he drawled. "Trying to forget your beeeh-loved godfather - are you gonna put up a shrine for him? With an inscription on a fake tombstone? How about, 'Here lies Sirius, who was too stupid to recognize a Stunning Spell' - or does that exceed your horizon?"

Harry put down the _Quibbler _and got up. Malfoy grinned, but when Harry came closer and closer and still remained absolutely cool, his grin slowly faded. Harry could practically see how Malfoy struggled not to retreat.

"Listen, Malfoy," Harry said, and the friendly smile did not fade from his face, "two things. One: I must disappoint you, for your lovely aunt once removed on your mother's side, Bellatrix Lestrange, wasn't as successful as she thought. Sirius Black is alive and well, as I'm sure you'll learn the day after tomorrow - the latest - when you read the new issue of the _Quibbler_. Two..." Harry paused, closed his eyes for a moment and seized his wand. "Two: If you ever call Sirius a coward again, I'll take you to a very special place where your little friends can't help you, and there you'll serve as a special kind of dartboard, if you know what that is. If you don't, I'll explain it to you: It means I'll tie you up to the wall and then use you as a target for every curse, jinx or hex I've ever heard of. Your own mother wouldn't recognize you afterwards. Did you understand me?"

Malfoy's jaw had dropped at Harry's first words, and he made a monumental effort not to draw back.

"What do you mean, Sirius Black is back?" he asked, sounding uneasy. "He's dead. My dad was there. He saw him die."

"You said it yourself," said Harry. "If Sirius had died, I'd be crying like a little child right now. Do you see me crying, Malfoy?"

Malfoy sneered.

"As a matter of fact, I went and brought him back," Harry added casually. "But that's not the point here. Will you now be so kind as to turn on your heel and leave this compartment? I'm sure my fellow travelers agree with me - we desperately need some fresh air in here."

"You can't talk to me like that, I'm a prefect!" Malfoy straightened. "I can give you detention!"

Hermione rose from her seat. "I'm a prefect, too," she said. "And even if you don't like the thought, Malfoy, _I_ can give _you_ detention just as easily."

"Shut it, mudblood," hissed Malfoy.

"Are you deaf?" asked Ron from behind. "Harry told you something. Leave. This. Compartment. Now."

Malfoy leaned against the door. "And what if I don't?" He asked. "What are you gonna do then, resurrect Potter's dad from the dead?"

"You filthy..."

"Cut it, Ron," said Hermione sharply and held Ron back. "Harry's managing that alone."

"If you don't," said Harry just as calmly, although a hot wave of rage was growing in him, "I'll find another way of getting rid of you. I just wanted to give you a fair chance first." He drew his wand. "Are you getting out of here, Malfoy, or do you want me to send Prongs?"

Malfoy looked confused. "Prongs? Who the hell is Prongs?"

"Do you wanna find out?" asked Harry politely.

"You're a bluff," said Malfoy, but he retreated slowly. "You're not sending anyone. And I bet that your silly godfather is as dead as ever. You're just trying to..."

Something in Harry exploded. Hearing another insult from Malfoy was more than he could bear. He lifted his wand. Ne need to concentrate on a happy memory; ever since Sirius's return Harry had had a constant feeling of happiness in him that never faded. He just memorized it and pointed his wand at Malfoy. "_Expecto Patronum!_"

The silver stag broke out of his wand and hit Malfoy. Malfoy's eyes bulged; he gave a tiny little shriek that made the others scream with laughter, then he flew back a good ten feet down the aisle, landed with a hard thud on his butt on the ground and kept sitting there.

Harry closed the door again, laughing so hard that he had tears in his eyes. His patronus bowed and then faded away.

"That was brilliant, mate," said Ron, who clasped his side. "Have you seen his face?"

"He couldn't believe it," gasped Ginny. "Oh my God, that was _so_ awesome, Harry! I'll remember that for the rest of my life!"

"So will I," said Neville, whose round face was beaming. "I just hope that he won't give you detention, Harry."

"Nah, he'll be way too embarrassed," said Hermione. "I bet you my badge that he won't even tell Crabbe and Goyle what just happened."

"You must be really certain," said Ron, grinning. "If you even risk your badge..."

"Shut it, Ron."

**xxx**

Hagrid waved to them over the heads of the first-year students he was assembling together.

"Talk to ye later, Harry," he roared.

Harry made the OK sign and continued his way to the coaches with the others. When they had reached them, Ron, Hermione and Ginny stopped dead.

"What's wrong?" asked Harry.

Hermione pointed at the Thestrals. "I can see them," she whispered.

"Me, too." Ron approached the Thestral that was standing nearest and reached out a hand to stroke it. The Thestral looked at Ron with his beautiful, dark eyes and stood still.

"But why can we see them now?" asked Ginny. "I mean, we haven't actually seen death... not really."

"Don't ask me," said Harry. "Maybe that one Death Eater that fell into this time-changing aquarium, or whatever it was, died. Or we've been misinformed about what really happened to Sirius."

"I don't care," said Ginny and stepped forwards to join Ron.

Hermione looked horrified. "Did I really ride on the back of one of these?" she said. "They look so..."

"Eerie?" suggested Harry, grinning.

Hermione nodded. "Creepy."

"But they are wonderful," assured Harry. "I mean, they're not very comfortable to ride on, but they're true and reliable and kind..."

"Might well be," said Hermione and shivered. "But I won't ever mount one of these again."

"Pray that you won't have to, then," said Harry, shrugging. He also patted the Thestral on the neck and then entered the coach. Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Neville and Luna followed.

When they had arrived at the Great Hall, they sat down at the Gryffindor table as fast as possible. Since Sirius's return hadn't been announced yet, the students still thought that Harry must be grieving, and Harry tried to hide from all the sympathetic glances the others were casting him.

"They'll soon know better," said someone.

Harry turned around and saw Remus standing behind him, grinning.

"What do you mean?" asked Harry.

"You'll see," said Remus. "They might pay their condolences to you now, but wait until Dumbledore's there."

Something was dawning on Harry. "Is Sirius here?" He asked eagerly. Then he grinned. "You might as well answer, Remus. It's been impossible to separate you two, and Sirius wanted to come here, anyway. And then Dumbledore cannot but tell the story when he's here, can he?"

"Eight out of ten points, Mr Potter," said Remus and winked. "See you after dinner."

And he was gone.

"What did he mean?" asked Ron.

"We'll see in a few minutes' time," said Hermione and watched the door. "We'll just have to endure the Sorting Ceremony."

She had barely finished speaking when McGonagall entered the hall, followed by a flock of nervous-looking first-years. She then went to fetch the Sorting Hat and started calling the names of the students. It went quite fast, and after "Zhang, Jie!" had been made a Ravenclaw, McGonagall stored the hat away and Dumbledore rose from his chair.

"Welcome back at Hogwarts," he said. "To those who are new I'd like to extend a hearty welcome. The prefects of your houses will tell you everything you need to know, and you can always ask your teachers as well."

Snape, who was sitting at Dumbledore's left side, sneered.

"As you might already have guessed, Professor Umbridge will not return this term," continued Dumbledore. He wanted to go on, but was interrupted by a gigantic wave of applause that lasted for a few minutes. Dumbledore's eyes sparkled. "Very well then," he said cheerfully, "you don't seem to be too sad about this. And so I would like to introduce you to your new teacher for Defense Against the Dark Arts. You'll probably be very surprised, as he's been considered to be dead, but let me assure you that he's neither a ghost nor any other kind of a living dead - he's alive and well. Please welcome Professor Black!"

Harry's jaw dropped as he saw Sirius emerge between McGonagall and Hagrid. He looked at Ron and Hermione, who did not look less surprised.

For a moment, there was silence in the hall.

Sirius did not seem to mind the confusion he'd caused. He grinned at Harry, and that broke Harry's paralysis. He, Ron, Hermione and Ginny simultaneously started to applaud, and a moment later, Neville and Luna at the Ravenclaw table joined in. The other students, whose heads had all been turned either to Sirius or to Harry, seemed to pull themselves together as well. The Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs also started to applaud, and a moment later, the Ravenclaws. The Slytherins kept silent, but Harry hadn't expected anything else. Moreover, he could see Malfoy's face, staring at Sirius as if he'd seen a ghost, his mouth wide open. The applause grew louder and louder, and when Harry looked around, he found that Ron, Hermione and Ginny had climbed the benches and were just about to seize Harry's arms to pull him up as well. Harry shook his head, climbed the bench himself and did his best to make the applause deafening. His heart was jumping with joy. Sirius was the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher! This promised to be a wonderful year. With Sirius around, he could face everyone - Snape, Malfoy and all the other Slytherins. And Sirius's classes would certainly be more interesting than all the others before - or at least as interesting as those of Remus and Moody.

The applause seemed to last forever, until Dumbledore finally stood up again and stepped forward.

"I think Professor Black knows now that you are all glad he's here," he said and winked in Harry's direction. "We hope that his classes will, er, involve a little more practical training than Professor Umbridge's."

Another wave of applause.

"And now we won't keep you waiting any longer. Enjoy your meals!"

**xxx**

After the meal, Harry and the others jumped to their feet and dashed through the hall to the teacher's table. Sirius, who also had already finished eating, laughed and rose from his chair as he saw them approaching.

"Now _that's_ a real surprise," said Hermione, who reached him first. "So this was Dumbledore's little idea when you said you wanted to stay at Hogwarts as well!"

"Indeed, it was," said Sirius. "And I thought, 'Why not?' I have a lot of experience, after all. Remus came with me. He'll probably help me a little with the curriculum and that sort of stuff. And maybe he'll come along to a few classes as well, assisting me..."

"You wish, Sirius," said Remus. "Do you really think it's my greatest wish to be the target for the spells you teach them?"

Sirius grinned. "When I think it over now... well, I might prefer Peeves as a target."

"Oh, this year will be _wonderful_," said Ginny and beamed at Sirius. "Are you staying for the next year as well?"

"I don't know yet," said Sirius in amusement. "Maybe you'll all tell me to go to hell by the end of this term."

"You don't want us to answer, do you, Sirius?" asked Ron with a malicious grin that could compete with Malfoy's.

"There's only one problem," said Hermione and grinned. "I mean, you'll be our teacher now."

"Where's the problem with that?" asked Harry.

"Well, it's not too common to be on first-name terms with a teacher," said Hermione. "I'm actually not quite sure if it isn't even forbidden. So what do you say now, _Professor Black_?"

Sirius laughed. "I guess there's a loophole for that rule, Hermione," he said. "It would indeed be very strange if you all started calling me Professor Black."

"I'll set up Educational Decree number twenty-nine," said Dumbledore, who had heard the last few sentences. His eyes sparkled. "I'll officially allow students to remain on first-name terms with their teachers in special situations - for example, if the teacher is the student's godfather...," he winked at Harry, "or if he's somehow related to the student's parents...," another wink at Ron and Ginny, "or if the student once saved his life...," a wink at Hermione, "...or even twice." Another wink at Harry.

"I'm very much relieved," said Sirius.

"So are we," added Hermione. "Thank you, Professor Dumbledore."

"You're welcome," said Dumbledore and smiled. Then he returned to his chair and continued eating.

Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny returned to the Gryffindor table, for Ron and Hermione had to lead the first-years to the common room.

Harry walked with Ginny and Neville behind them and enjoyed the feeling that was running through him. He really felt compensated for the three weeks of grief. Now Sirius was back to life and, what was almost even better, he would stay at Hogwarts for at least a year. Harry would celebrate Christmas with him, and Sirius would always be around if he needed him.

Life could be so beautiful!

_ The End _


End file.
